The Red Dragon
by Arhani 'Hanny' Daforcena
Summary: How far would you go to save the ones you love? When the only active female in the Task Force 141 is captured by Makarov, and is forced to bend to his will, she decides to take matters into her own hands, even if it means... Soap/Makarov OC, Pls RNR!
1. Red Dragon RATED M

She looked at the man before her and smiled. It was not of seduction, nor was it of joy, or even a mischievous smirk that she was so famous for, just a smile. He was the soldier that had saved the world many times over, so many times, in fact, that anyone would have a hard time trying to count, one of the best of the best on the face of the Earth. They were in his quarters, an arrangement that they had made, whenever the two of them were in the HQ of their organization at the same time. It had been like that, ever since they were no longer the FNGs, when they were assigned to their specific roles.

He had been a field man, the guy that their superiors were sure to count on, the man who delivered the results needed in any way necessary. And not only that, he had gained a huge amount of respect because he genuinely cared for his subordinates and his crew, making him quite the poster boy for their organization. After all, he had learned from the best, for before his coming into the organization, he had worked for the British Special Air Service under a legendary captain.

He too, regarded her well. Unlike all of the members of organization, she had come from a rather exotic country: Japan, but the usual, typical Japanese, she was not. She held double citizenship, being both Japanese and American, and came from a long line of Eurasians, which perfectly explained why she was a natural redhead with a typical Asian complexion. But that mattered little. She was just a warrior, in all meanings of the word, fast, accurate and deadly when provoked; she was trained in all forms of combat, modern and classical, the sniper that carried a katana for close-quarters combat, which had earned her the call sign, "Red Dragon", or "Reddie" for short.

Of course, being in a task force of international elites, they were a small group, and they had worked together on several occasions. It was those times that brought their mutual… considerations towards one another into light, which both thrilled and made their missions downright hard for them to continue without them pouncing on one another at the slightest moment of privacy.

Luckily, there were times like these.

"Did you miss me, Captain?" she asked him as she circled him, as if she was inspecting him, her finger outstretched to caress a circle around his shoulders. Those eyes, those dark ebony eyes, they held a fire that could not be sourced, but could be felt, right in her black gaze. Once again, there was no mistake about her call sign, no matter how stereotypical it sounded. "Or, has a beautiful woman caught your eye on your little trip in Myanmar that you have forgotten all about poor little me?"

He said nothing, but deftly snaked his arms around her slim waist and pulled her towards him. "Of course I missed you," he murmured into the sensitive skin on the arch of her neck, nibbling the same area gently as he tightened his hold over her, so that every curve of her body was molded into his own. Softly, she cooed right into his ear, a gesture that had no actual meaning, but it drove him crazy. "And… there… is… no… woman…more… beautiful… than you are." As he said those words, he kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her luscious lips, and just above the area of the valley of her cleavage.

She chuckled at his words, and replied, "Perhaps it is only because that no other woman you know can handle a machine gun and a katana at the same time." Raising her head towards his for a kiss that he readily obliged to, she felt his tongue graze over her white teeth, and parted her mouth ever so little, just enough to allow his tongue entrance to encounter that of her own.

Truth be told, he had been utterly… fascinated by her. It took a soldier to notice another soldier's finesse, but what she had was raw and pure talent. Watching her fight, was like watching an elegant dance, and watching her dance… it was something different altogether. She had that sort of grace in combat that no other soldier had, as if she had been trained by the masters of the ancient world themselves.

"Think what you want, but you've ruined me for other women," he whispered into her ear as he caressed the smooth skin of her inner thigh with his calloused hand. Yet again, she chuckled, and he could have sworn that her black eyes twinkled at that split second, but not after she cocked a suspicious eyebrow at him. "Reddie, have I ever lied to you?"

"Well, you'd have to show me," she whispered back, playing with a lock of her hair. Those words were the catalyst that turned the tide, and within seconds, the usually calm and collected captain, became a beast, hungry for contact. Without any regard for her clothes, he quickly stripped them off, caressing every single patch of naked skin as he licked on her nipples hungrily. If that was not enough, she was moaning into his ear, and it drove him into nigh-madness, taking all of his self-control not to ram his shaft into her then and there.

Dragons were worshipped in Asia, and that was what he was going to do to this particular red-headed one. Trailing kisses down her taut abdomen, still continuing his slow caresses on her thighs, he knew that she could no longer take his seductive teasing. Kissing, licking, everywhere save for where she had wanted him so badly to touch. "You… bastard…" she rasped, clutching on what little hair that remained unshaven on his head. "Please…"

"Do you believe me now?" he asked maliciously, lightly running his fingers to feel her nether lips, noting that she would be ready for him in a few moments. There was an unintelligible mumble from her lips, which he took for a "yes", and began to suck at the jewel of her womanhood, already erect from what he had done to her.

She howled in pleasure as his tongue and teeth took her again and again, followed by two of his fingers. She could feel herself reaching the height of pleasure, and she knew that she needed him within her soon. "Captain, do not torture me so…" now, she resorted to begging, and it was his undoing. Quickly removing whatever barriers of clothing that was still on his person, he carried her onto his bed and laid her down.

"As you wish," he replied, and deftly sheathed himself within her, causing her to scream his name. It did not matter; after all, personnel quarters were all sound-proofed. They could do everything and anything, and the others would have no way on overhearing any part of their… encounter.

It was not before long when she turned, taking him below her, and started to ride him. Oh, yes, she loved to take charge so long she had the chance… "Ever the firecracker, aren't you?" he teased, nibbling on her shoulder, only to have her put a finger onto his lips before she silenced him with a slow kiss as she started to pick up the pace, gyrating her hips against his body with her back arched as he kneaded her full breasts. Soon, the both of them were rendered incapable of speech, due to the intense feelings of pleasure, leading to even more earth-shattering orgasms in their own time.

They had fallen asleep in each other's arms the moment after he had pulled himself out of the embrace of the walls of her womanhood, and for a moment's time, the two soldiers left everything that they were behind, knowing, in that space and time, that they were only a man and a woman, acting out the basest of their desires.

* * *

"_That's a pretty sword, lass," he told the lieutenant that joined his team in Pakistan to chase out the remnants of the Taliban militants. He had never seen anyone handle a katana in this day and age, where guns were the main weapon of choice. "But it's not really reliable, is it?"_

_The lieutenant rolled her eyes and said, "Swords like these have been the height of technology for thousands of years, unlike those savage weapons we are so reliant upon." Having said thus, she quickly decapitated a combat-dummy faster than one of his subordinates could reload his weapon. "They still have not lost their appeal to me."

* * *

_

"Ryuka, are you awake?" he asked her, two hours later, after sensing her stirring in bed, and after remembering the first words that they had shared. She turned towards him and batted her long eyelashes upon, complaining that it was still a long time before he had to go after she looked at his watch. "I was just wondering… perhaps, when this is all over…"

"If you are talking about the war, it will never be over," she told him, her voice suddenly cold. "So long there are humans with conflicting interests, there will be war. You are a soldier; you should have known that, John." She had come from a long line of Japanese and American warriors, her ancestry could be traced to the first female assassin in Japanese history, and an American civil-war veteran sent to train the Japanese army after the Meiji Restoration happened. "I know what you mean to say, but I prefer to remain like this, as we are, without any chains to one another. But I want you to know that never in my life have I felt as I have when I'm with you."

Those words put a smile on his war-weighted face, and he held her closer to him. What started out as a lustful attraction between them, had blossomed into something more. "Me too, Reddie, me too."

Thus, once more, they fell asleep, and in the morning, he was nowhere in sight. Where he had formerly slept the previous night, was a handwritten note, in his own precise handwriting. _I'm headed to the Tianshan Mountains with the FNG, I'll see you when I see you. _That was her John, always so…formal when work was concerned. But then again, he was a field leader, he had to be.

At the back of the card, there was the picture of a highly disproportionate shape of a heart, with their initials written in the center. Giggling, she shook her head and wrote her own message on that very page.

_I love you too._


	2. Parted

Death... A man of his station encountered death countless times. He was the one who saw his comrades dying beside him after every mission, he was the one who had caused so much death on the battlefield... This was the life of a soldier, and definitely the life of the field commander of the elite Task Force 141, but Soap had not imagined to see the death one so close to him. In his arms was Ryuka, her body getting colder and colder by the passing second. "Captain," she smiled, reaching her hand out to cup his face. "Do not fret, for I shall have no regrets; I have walked the path that belonged to my ancestors..." That was his Ryuka, always speaking as though she came from a medieval novel or something like that... Her blood was seeping into his clothes, staining his very body with the red liquid as he held onto her for dear life.

"Don't go," he murmured into her red hair, cradling her limp body. He knew that he should have said it sooner, but he loved her, more than he could have ever imagined. Those nights that they had spent together, those nights filled with utter passion and ecstasy, they had not meant to serve only the basest of their desires. Between them was a wild spark of attraction, but there was also something more. He cared for her deeply, the youngest in their team for a long time before Roach came in, and the only woman actively serving in the field. Ryuka held a spark in her that he could never find in another woman, leaving him hungrier and hungrier for more the more he encountered her. Her smile, her laughter, even the way she fought, it just made him feel as though he was still a hormonal teenager, and not an elite soldier...

Ryuka looked into his blue eyes and shook her head. "All things have an end, John," she told him, the very mention of his name was a declaration of love in its own right. "One day, you will die as well, and I would be waiting for you, either in hell or in heaven." With that, she slowly brushed her lips against his for a kiss that he readily granted, hoping that she would not leave him. Slowly, she kissed him once more as he told her again and again that he loved her, but even he could not stop death from coming. As the moments passed, Ryuka grew weaker, and paler. They were both in a puddle of her blood, and he knew that in any moment, she would close her fiery black eyes and never open them again. "I love you..." she whispered, slightly squeezing his hand that held hers so tightly.

A gunshot could be heard. Right before her eyes, Ryuka had been shot a second time... Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and she struggled to speak before her heart stopped beating... His only consolation, was that she managed to close her dark eyes, a silent gesture that told him that she was in peace... But he was not. Looking straight ahead, he could see the man that shot her. He was standing tall and erect, with smoke still rising from the Desert Eagle in his hands. "How sentimental," the man said, keeping the pistol into a holster. "I never thought that the two of you would ever be together, but frankly, she knew too much..."

Shepherd... This man had taken everything away from him. His freedom, his brothers, and the woman he loved. Setting Ryuka's dead body down with utmost reverence, Soap took the only weapon on him, a combat knife and stabbed the man... But why, why was he feeling the pain instead? As the traitor laid dying, white light engulfed his vision, and soon, he began to hear voices...

"Soap, you're gonna be okay!" was that Price? It sounded like Price... "Just hang in for a second..."

"Ryuka..." he called, throbbing pain coursing throughout his body. She was alive... He remembered now. She was ordered to remain in the capitol city of Tajikistan, the rendezvous point for when the Task Force 141 would succeed in taking Makarov down in two fronts...

"Reddie's alright, Soap," Price replied, "Shepherd didn't get to her."

* * *

_Ghost had requested that he took Roach to search Makarov's safehouse in the Caucasus Mountains, while Price told the team that he and Soap would head towards the Afghan boneyard to search for Makarov. "And what about me, gentlemen?" Ryuka asked the men around her, demanding an answer. "Am I to house-sit the sub when you are all away?"_

_One mistake that could not be done, was to leave Ryuka out of the action, especially at a time like that. "Reddie, you will head to Tajikistan," Price told her, knowing that even Soap would not be able to calm her down. He knew her father, and watched her blossom under the Japanese military, and no one could talk some sense into her if not him. "We'll rendezvous in Dushanbe once we're done with all this Makarov crap." There was a fatherly hand on her shoulder, and yet, she looked at Soap with a vehemence that Price had never seen before._

_"This order did not come from you or Shepherd, Captain," she told Price, assuming her "formal" voice. "It came from Mactavish..." Soap said nothing, and only looked into her black eyes, as though holding her in a silent conversation. "You deploy the entire 141 without me... What if anything happens in both fronts? What if all of you do not come back? Am I to wait for you there until I know that you are dead and gone?" It was a difficult time for them, it was true, but it was utterly paramount. America depended on them, and hence, the peace of the world. Ryuka came from a whole family of soldiers, and she knew the dangers of being one, but not to be beside her comrades, it was too much for her to bear. Soap knew this, and he deliberately excluded her from these two missions._

_Roach walked up to her, and told her, "Look, Reddie, we're all gonna be fine." The FNG was smiling, while Ghost messed up the top of her hair, which she had left down. "If we don't get back in time, you'd have to kick our asses, and we sure as hell wouldn't want that to happen." Listening to his words, Ryuka could not help but to fall into a small smile as well. "See, was that so bad?"_

_As the men left to prepare for their missions, Soap left behind to hold Ryuka in his arms. As always, she was more adept in words, but he, he knew that this was the best way to show her how he had felt as well. "Bastard," she cursed at him as she returned his embrace. "Do you think that by placing me in Dushanbe, I would be safe?" A stray tear fell from her eye and dropped onto the sleeve of his uniform. This man... he knew that she was highly independent, that she needed no protection, and yet he would choose such a course of action, and for what?_

_"At least, you would be safer there than anywhere we know," he told her. Tajikistan would be a place that Makarov would not even think to look... "If anything happened to you, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself, Ryuka," He had been a caring leader, who never stopped thinking about the safety of his teammates, but Ryuka, her place in his heart could not be replaced by any amount of comradeship. From the very first time they had met, up until now, he could never explain how he felt towards her, that spark of carnal desire that was now something highly different..._

_"Do you not think that I would not feel the same?" she asked him. Her question was answered by a kiss, one that was bittersweet, unlike what they had experienced many times before. It seemed like the Captain was not going to change his mind. "Be careful, John," she whispered as he moved to kiss the arch of her neck before they pulled away from one another. _

_Not two hours later, the Task Force 141 split up three ways, half to the Caucasus Mountains, Price and Soap to Afghanistan, and Ryuka to Dushanbe. "Take care," she told all of them and hugged them before they left in their respective transports. Nickolai, the Russian informant and the man who had run many missions with Soap and Price, was no exception as well. "I want them back in one piece, Nickolai," she told him._

_"Da, not to worry, Reddie," Nickolai replied, "I will make sure the old man and the captain reaches Tajikistan for you to use them as target practice."_

_Ryuka chuckled, and nodded. There was no more time left, and they saluted one another before they went into their respective transports. She did not look back towards Nickolai's Pave Low, and in looked forwards to her destination, where she would be posing as an American volunteer in one of the larger orphanages in Dushanbe.  
_

_

* * *

_"In today's news, two former SAS combatants have been declared on the US Most Wanted List, overtaking Russian Ultranationalist extremist, Vladimir Makarov. The two captains. John Price and John Mactavish have orchestrated and executed the assassination of one General Shepherd, who had been responsible for all US defense forces after the Russian invasion. John Price is also wanted for launching a nuclear missile into the atmosphere that destroyed the International Space Station_, _creating an EMP that destroyed all communications in the Washigton DC area as an act of terror."

Ryuka was not sure if she was able to continue listening to that news broadcast... While she was in Dushanbe, she continued receiving comm. feeds from both Makarov's safehouse and the boneyard where Price and Soap had been, and she had known that Shepherd had betrayed them all, by taking the DSM containing all of Makarov's plans from Ghost and Roach and killing them, as well as the rest of the Task Force 141, who were all denounced as traitors... And now that Shepherd was dead, and Price and Soap nowhere to be found, things got even worse for her. However, even with no place to go, or no idea whether or not they had survived the ordeal, she knew that she had to lie low, and most of all, her cover could not be blown.

"You seem to be very interested in the happenings of the US army," the head of the orphanage said to Ryuka, who caught her listening to the only English radio channel in broadcast. He was an elderly Scotsman, his accent similar to that of Soap's, in a general sort of way. "Don't tell me, you have someone special fighting in Afghanistan?"

Casting down her eyes, Ryuka nodded her head. "He is, sir, and I fear for him," she answered, turning the radio off. If she listened anymore, she was sure that she would burst into tears immediately. Ever since 911 happened, there had been no shortage of American soldiers in the Middle East, be it in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan... the list was endless. "Perhaps, that's why I came here... He's luckier you know, that he's not fighting the Russians right now."

"Ah, yes, that young Russian chap," the other man replied. "Ruthless lad, he is... But we've all waited for so many years knowing that this day would come, it's bound to happen someday." War must always come before peace, and that was the belief of Ryuka's family. Her own ancestor had torn down an era that lasted three hundred years with her own katana, and now, she was actively participating in a war that would start WWIII...

"Mr. Carlson, I thank you, for taking the time out to talk with me," she thanked him. Even if the man was led to think that Soap was an American soldier, they were still on the same topic, after all. "You must be very, very busy."

Mr. Carlson shook his head and took her hands in his. "My dear, I have not thanked you enough for helping us out thus far... These two days have been exceptionally hard, what with the US and Russia having a war between them," he told Ryuka, reminding her that she had came with supplies and even books and toys for the children. "At least, the children have something to smile about, even in those kenjutsu classes you've been giving them."

It was Ryuka's turn to smile, and that she did, although it had been one that was forced. A woman had to defend herself at those parts, particularly if she came alone, and was not of the Muslim faith. Her other weapons had been carefully concealed amongst her other things, but her katana, it was part of who she was, so she laid it out in the open. Mr. Carlson was right though, the children were indeed rather happy when she decided to teach them a few moves with what long sticks and short broom-handles they could find. "Well, perhaps we could put in another practice session?" she asked, taking the radio in, along with her katana.

At least, she would have something to take her mind off her troubles, for just a little while.


	3. Captured

Vladimir Makarov was a man of resourcefulness. From a small-time politician, he had rose high into the ranks of the Ultranationalist party to become the greatest terrorist the world has ever seen, and he had to thank his late mentor, Imran Zakhaev for it. And now, he would be heading for the ultimate prize of all…

His plans had succeeded, Shepherd had been killed by his very own lackeys whom he had betrayed, and the old fool had thought that he could bring him down… Shepherd was wrong. Now, the surviving members of the Task Force 141 were scattered, and rumor had it that one of them, was waiting for the Captains Price and Mactavish in Dushanbe. What kind of multinational terrorist would he be, if he did not have spies planted everywhere?

"The one that you are looking for, she is nothing as she seems to be," said the head of the orphanage that he himself had built in the Tajik capital city. "She is armed with only a Japanese sword, but she has been constantly listening for American military news… One could say that she is a lovesick youth who ran away to search for her lover…"

A lovesick youth, eh? Makarov knew better than that. The children of the Algren family were all soldiers one way or the other. When he had been a child, the exploits of her father in the first Iraq war as a high-ranking Marine had been almost legendary to anyone who had studied modern American military history. This girl, this Ryuka Algren, she was such a soldier that even the Emperor of Japan has her on his honor-roll, and was held on "indefinite loan" to this Task Force 141 from the Japanese government. She could not be taken lightly.

"Thank you, my friend," Makarov told the old man, giving him a bag of money containing British Pounds Sterling, for now, the currency of America would no longer be of use. "Please tell me if there is anything that we should know about. She is a highly dangerous person, and I fear for the safety of your children, Mr. Carlson." The man quickly thanked Makarov and left the scene as quickly as he could, not knowing that he had already been followed, this much, Makarov knew even before the old man had come to see him. "You can come out now, my dear," he said towards the shadow hiding behind the ancient tree not far from them.

Immediately, a throwing knife was flung towards him, and he quickly evaded it. "Ah, Lieutenant Algren, you were more beautiful than I expected," he told Ryuka, who was now right before him, standing in her full height. In the Russian's eyes, the light of the stars that clear night did nothing to her beauty. White skin, flowing red hair and those dark, fiery eyes, if she had not been the enemy, he was sure that he would be utterly drawn to her. "Or, should I call you 'Ryuka' instead?"

She said nothing, but unsheathed her katana and started to attack him, and Makarov knew, if not for his quick reflexes, he would have been dead in seconds. This one, he had watched for a long time, when the Task Force 141 had come into light, the unofficial third in command, and a highly formidable sniper. Ryuka… he had done quite a lot of research, and he knew that her name meant the "Dragon-flower" in Japanese, an elegant name, but not something that befitted her at all. She was fierce as she had been strong, that young American that Shepherd had thought to deceive him with could never compare to her, a woman, nonetheless.

Soon, he got tired of that one-sided battle, and signaled his men that hid in the shadows. One bullet to her calf had been enough to get her down, leaving her using her katana thrust into the ground for support. "Monster!" she shouted, throwing another dagger that lodged itself on the same place on his body where she had been shot. "Have you no honor?"

Slightly cursing in Russian, Makarov pulled out the dagger and threw it away. "Not at all, my dear," he replied, and held her hair tightly in his hand, jerking her head back. "But I have many things besides that… Including you, as of now…" Ryuka's eyes widened, and she grabbed yet another one of her daggers and aimed it towards his own heart. With his great reflexes, Makarov took the dagger from her hands, taking advantage of her weakened state. "Please, do not do anything so stupid," he whispered into her ear, caressing her fair face. "I need you alive…"

Ryuka raised her katana and lunged towards Makarov, but she heard another gunshot, which felled her immediately. "Makarov…" she groaned, her black eyes filled with anger and hatred. Her M4A1 had been left in the orphanage, along with her other weapons… Wait, her earpiece…

"Now, let us see what other treasures do you have," Makarov said, slowly positioning her to lie flat on the ground. She might be the enemy, but there was no reason for him to treat her like one. A woman like her, was rare, and had to be cherished with the utmost care. Gently, he searched her body, every second more in the process made her skin crawl. "Ah, there…" he found her ear-piece and her microphone… "Price, I have a very precious flower in my hands. If you wish to have her, follow this signal, and you shall find her."

* * *

How the hell did Makarov find Ryuka? Soap listened to Makarov's words, broadcast through Ryuka's communication systems, and quickly tried to sit up. He could not leave her to the madman's clutches… "Soap, calm down!" Price said, pushing him down. "Makarov knows that we'll go save her, he won't kill her in a whim."

"How can I calm down if Ryuka is in Makarov's hands?" Soap shouted at Price. He did not care if Price would know of his and Ryuka's relationship, nor did it matter ever now… He should have known that Makarov could have planted spies in Dushanbe.

At this, Price raised his voice as well. "I have watched Ryuka grow up, Soap, don't you ever dare tell me that you would care more about her than I do!" For a single, childless old man, Ryuka had been the closest anyone could get to being his own child, for he had been great comrades with her father despite their age gap. "If you really love her, I suggest that you get back down and recover before we go and save her." Anyone who did not notice that Soap and Ryuka were an item, were either downright blind, or totally stupid, in his opinion, but then again, none in the 141 knew the two of them as well as he had.

This time, even Nickolai was at Price's side. "Da, Reddie would try her best to survive in these hard times, my friend," the Russian told Soap, "There is nothing to fear for her."

"I hope you're both right," Soap muttered under his breath as the effects of the painkillers started kicking in, along with the morphine.

* * *

Ryuka did not like the situation she was in at all. Given the fact that she had been enemy hands, she would have preferred if she was severely beaten, chained and left in a cold, dark room. The fact that she was not, highly disturbed her. She was in a plush hotel room in Shanghai, dressed in a wine-red gown with sapphires on her earrings and on the diamond necklace that rested elegantly on her décolletage. Her katana was nowhere to be found, nor were her communication devices… What made things worse was that Makarov was right beside her, admiring her image from the full-length mirror.

"You look absolutely beautiful," he told her, slowly walking towards her. "I knew that a dress suits you more than that leather suit of yours. A woman of your beauty cannot be wasted amongst mere soldiers…" Ryuka glared at him at those words, black eyes fixed upon his eyes, one colored blue, and the other, green, due to a rare condition known as _Heterochromia Iridium_, and looked down. Her wounds had been quickly tended to by his doctors when they made the journey from Dushanbe to Shanghai, with only one small dot to remind her where his men had shot her.

With all gentleness, Makarov placed each hand on her shoulders and inhaled the scent of her hair. "Get away from me," she hissed, bringing her hand up to slap him. However, he managed to hold her wrist in mid-strike, and kissed her knuckles before he forcefully put it down to her side.

"Ryuka, Ryuka, Ryuka," he clicked his tongue. "When will you see that being so stubborn would not improve the situation you are in?" This woman was a fiery one, and the more he spent time with her, the more he was intrigued by her. "Have you ever considered the possibility that I know where your precious captains are, and that I can have my men kill them at any one time?"

Those words were enough to draw her gaze back onto him. "You're lying," she spat, knowing that if he was able to plant spies in Dushanbe, he would be able to trace Price and Soap, especially since he had everything that she had been captured with… "Leave them out of this; they have nothing to do with you,"

"Do you even know why Captain John Price was kept in the Gulag, my dear?" he asked her, grazing his lips where her neck and shoulder met. "There have been reports that state that he was the one of the team of SAS members who killed my mentor, Imran Zakhaev, the martyr-hero of Mother Russia. And now, I know that the claim is true, because it is Captain John Mactavish who did it, but with Price's pistol… Do you think that you can take me for a fool?" No wonder… No wonder Makarov had so much hatred for Price, so much so that he would have him inhumanely imprisoned in the Gulag for five years. It was a wonder that Price survived… "However, you were all lucky that your comrades managed to save him before we could even kill him. Now, if you do not cooperate, I would not hesitate to place the order…"

"You will do no such thing!" Ryuka exclaimed, turning towards him. Fear… it was not existent in her dark eyes. It never had been so, and it never will be. Knowing that if this was hellfire, and that she would have to go through it no matter what, she gulped and placed her arms around Makarov's neck. Slowly, she steeled her own nerves, and managed to turn her anger and hatred for the man into something else. "I am yours now," she told him, purposely making her voice sound as though she was shaken with fear. "Please, have mercy… They have nothing now, unlike you."

If there was anything that she had learnt from her experience in handling covert operations, she knew that all men were highly affected by beautiful women, and she knew that Makarov would not be an exception. "If you prove yourself to be a good girl, I can ensure their survival," he whispered into her ear, while he moved his hands to the sides of her waist… She was utterly bewitching to him, and he did not know why. Could it be the fact that she was a born redhead, while being so evidently Asian, or was it the fact that she was an enemy, captured, and in his grasp?

They were alone, his men stationed outside the hotel-room, and in the soft lights above them, she looked _divine_, and was unarmed, he had taken the pleasure to make sure of that. "Makarov…" she murmured, but he placed a finger upon her lips, silencing her. Slowly, he inched closer towards her and pressed his lips against hers, in a kiss that she did not want, nor did she expect. She had no choice, even if she knew that she could not be sure whether or not Makarov was lying to her about Soap and Price… She had to work to his demands, for the hope that the two of them would be safe.

_John… Uncle Price… Wherever you are, please, be safe…_


	4. Forced

Twilight… throughout her teenager years, this word was utterly magical, so much so that the whole world would blow up in high-pitched screams… But as she stood on the hotel room's balcony, she found that there was nothing special about twilight, the time between the end of the night, and the first rays of the sun. She could remember that man's hands all over her, every single detail that would have made her retch from the insides of her very being… Even as he laid fast asleep, she had taken countless baths and showers, but nothing could remove the feel of that monster all over her own body…

"John, forgive me…" she murmured, secretly hoping that her words could be heard. She should not have submitted to Makarov, she should have just taken her own life than to willingly bow to such a shameful act… But what was at stake was not her life, it was far greater. What was at stake, were the lives of the two men in the Task Force 141 that she knew she had to preserve, one was the great friend of her family, and the other, the man she loved…

Ryuka knew that she had a clear chance of killing Makarov, with him sleeping so soundly without his men beside him, but what good would it do? The very moment he was discovered dead, the possibility of his men killing her was so high that the Sun seemed lower to the earth in comparison. It would be no different from killing herself instead. No, she needed Makarov alive. She needed him to state that Shepherd had been the one who planted Joseph Allen into the Ultranationalist party and betrayed the young US soldier to Makarov, she needed him to state that Shepherd was the one who started the war between Russia and America in order to display the might of America before the world… With these statements, Soap and Price's names would be cleared, as well as those of her fallen comrades in the Task Force 141.

She was about to move back towards the bathroom when she felt a pair of arms encircle her waist from behind her. "What do you want?" she asked Makarov, who was already laying kisses about her bare shoulders. This man, there was nothing in him, no hate, no anger, only emptiness, and malice. She could not feel any emotion from him, only bloodlust, only the need for destruction.

"I have a highly seductive woman in my arms, darling," he whispered into her ear, gently grasping her neck. "What do you think I want, hmm?" That was not a question, and she knew it. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, and this one, although as reluctant as she had been to give herself to him, she was a breath of fresh air. He had never encountered a woman so impassioned by what she had felt, and even if he knew that she hated and feared him, it was more than enough.

"Please, don't call me that," she begged, rolling her eyes. Gods, how she hoped that Soap and Price would just storm into the room right now, and save her from this torment… How she wished that she could just end it, then and there. But she could not. She had to find a way to get him to crack.

Makarov smirked and turned her towards him. "Did you not just tell me that you were mine just a few hours ago?" he asked Ryuka, effectively provoking her anger. "Think of it, Ryuka, you are now a prisoner of war, with no chance of escaping… If my blood is spilt on Chinese soil, do you think that the Japanese government would even dare to defend you?" She was of Japanese and American descent, while the two of these countries had been seen as powerful and mighty leaders of the world, everything had changed when the global recession hit the world, and were no longer seen as giants. The Chinese had always distrusted the Americans, and they hated the Japanese to the core, for the atrocities they had caused in WWII.

Ryuka forced herself to relax and look into Makarov's mismatched eyes. "I'll kill you, and then I'll kill myself," she told him curtly. "Do you think that I do not dare to do so?" They were close to the side-table, where her communication devices were, turning them on discreetly… She needed to let Soap and Price know that she was in Shanghai, and she needed them to know that she was just like a puppet wrapped around a string held on by that blasted terrorist.

"You are a brave, brave girl, Ryuka," Makarov replied, "But I am sure that you already know how futile it is to kill me, when you need me alive to get you what you want, or have you forgotten?"

* * *

By then, Soap had already recovered from his injuries, and was already up and ready for combat. Ironically, they were now in Makarov's safehouse in the Caucasus Mountains, where they found no trace of surviving 141 members at all… Their brothers, had been massacred. He was about to take a swig of vodka from the cellars when he heard something coming out of Ryuka's transmitter. "_I'll kill you, and then I'll kill myself… Do you think that I do not dare to?"_ That's Ryuka's voice… She's alive! Just as he was going to alert Price, his former superior came into the room and motioned him to keep quiet. "_But I am sure that you already know how futile it is to kill me, when you need me alive to get you what you want, or have you forgotten?"

* * *

_

Ryuka turned the volume dial on her earpiece a little more, so that whoever was listening on the other end could hear whatever Makarov would be saying. "And what have I forgotten?" she asked him, casting him a dirty look. Makarov said nothing and slid off the bathrobe that she was wearing. In another setting, she would have readily castrated him, but not now…

"That you are mine now, darling," he told her, "And if you try to escape, not only your loved ones will die, but also an entire nation…"

Her eyes widened. First he threatened her with the lives of Price and Soap, and now he would threaten her with the United States of America? Just what did he want with her? She was as much of a victim of the previous war as he had been, if losses had to be counted. What did he have to gain from this, or was he so sadistic that he would take pleasure from a woman who fears and hates him to her very core?

"Bastard…" she muttered under her breath as Makarov started to kiss her once again. "There is a special place in hell for you, I just know it."

"Darling, I plan to grow old with you. In time, you will learn to love me, as I will learn to love you…"

* * *

"This is bullshit," Soap cursed. "He has her, and we can't do any bloody thing about it." The thought of Ryuka having to submit to Makarov… He was not sure whether he could take it, in all honesty. Yet he knew that Ryuka was going through it, so that he and Price could live.

Price crossed his arms and looked at the younger Captain. "Well, at least we know that the blighter is in Shanghai," he said, and that was a slightly comforting thought. However with the city bustling with so many hotels, and with so many people, finding two people there would be akin to finding the proverbial needle in the proverbial haystack. "Ryuka knows that Makarov is interested in her, and she is using it to her full advantage. Soap, Ryuka is an expert in covert operations; you know that, don't you?"

That much, Soap knew, and in the four years that she had joined the 141, she would be assigned to like missions of deep cover like her situation right now, although now, the stakes were much higher. Perhaps it was the fact that she was an exotic beauty, but he never really understood why she was chosen for those missions, particularly if she was prone to rather drastic forms of action when things started to get sticky. "I just hope that she's alright," he said, placing his head in his hands.

"You'd only have to worry about whether Reddie kills Makarov in his sleep," Nickolai joked, not the most appropriate one, but at least it brought a slight change of expression on Soap's face. "Don't worry, my friend, we'll be ready to go to Shanghai by tomorrow evening."

"Thanks, Nickolai," Soap replied, placing a hand on the Russian's shoulder. That gave them enough time to ransack whatever ammunitions they needed from the place, for the safehouse was chockfull of them. Looking at the picture of a floating yacht next to an island, a distant memory could not help but to resurface in his thoughts:

* * *

"_Have you ever thought of going on a vacation?" Ryuka asked Soap one night, after another one of their nightly encounters. There she was, spooned against him, as if she was made just for him. _

"_Reddie, the world is still in a mess," Soap replied, smiling at her question. The two of them were soldiers on a classified multinational military organization, if anything; they would be the first line of defense before the world's armies. Ryuka just rolled her eyes and set herself back onto the pillow and turned away from him, facing the cold, steel wall of the submarine. "Alright, alright, where do you want to go?"_

_She took a moment to ponder for an answer, and said, "Somewhere warm, but not a freaking desert, obviously." She had often been posted to the Middle East, and honestly, every single soldier was getting tired of it. "An island, somewhere about the Equator, with blue waters and white sands… and a private yacht."_

_Now, it was Soap's turn to roll his eyes. "A private yacht?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. "And where do you think the money to get one comes from?"_

"_Well, we've saved the world so many times, I suspect that the UN is cooking up blank checks for us as we speak," Ryuka joked with a kiss to his temple. "John, I'm only joking… I'll be happy to be wherever you are, I cross my heart." She traced a cross on her chest just to show that she meant it, causing him to chuckle._

"_Oh yeah?" he asked, quickly positioning himself above her. "Would you be happy if I did this instead, Algren?" With his fingers, he tickled the side of her waist, causing her to burst into terrible bouts of laughter. Luckily, the quarters were all soundproof, so no one would hear whatever was going on in there. _

_Ryuka begged and begged for him to stop, but to no avail. Soap even went so far as to steal more than a few kisses from her sweet lips before he consented to stop. "Mactavish, has anyone told you that you are an evil, evil man?" she asked him between kisses, subconsciously bringing her legs around his waist. "Any plans of world domination that you have not surfaced before you ironically became our field commander?"_

_That woman has a wild imagination; Soap mused, and decided to play along with her. "Just the one," he answered, casting a look that she could immediately read. Once again, he was thankful that the room was sound-proofed.

* * *

_

"You may have me, Makarov," Ryuka told the man who was now laying kisses all over her body. The bed was forgotten, but they ended up on the balcony, exposed to the freezing winter air, and the occasional low-flying helicopter. "But you will never have my heart…"

Makarov smirked and kissed her chin, "Ryuka, one day you will see that you would have to eat your words…" No more words were exchanged that night, only Makarov's one sided throes of passion, and the silent tears that she would shed. Ryuka Algren was a soldier, a member of the Task Force 141 on a mission to destroy the greatest terrorist the world has ever known, and to redeem her organization, and if this was what she had to bear to reach her goals, then so be it.


	5. Deceived

"I have a proposition for the three of you," the General Lee told the three men before him in fluent English. Never had he seen three soldiers before so disheveled, yet so determined to reach their goals, not even knowing that they could have plunged the world into war, by trespassing Chinese skies with a Pave Low, carrying a Russian pilot, and two British captains, with all three of them wishing to extract a Japanese-American (or was it the other way around?) female soldier from the hands of the Russian terrorist, who was in cahoots with a corrupt general of the Red Army. They could have been highly brilliant and confidant in their abilities to carry out what they set out to, or they could be highly insane. "If I loan you my men and weapons, and allow you to extricate Makarov as well as your comrade, the Chinese government would be responsible for the man's capture."

In Soap, Price and Nickolai's minds, there was no need for any propositions of the sort. So long as they could get Makarov and Ryuka out, they would do anything that General Lee told them to. "You've got yourself a deal, General Lee," Price said, shaking the other man's hand. "Once we have what we want, we'll get the hell out of China so fast that you would not remember that we were even here." They were lucky, very, very lucky that Makarov had chosen to aggravate China, thinking that he would be safe there. He couldn't be more wrong.

However, General Lee cocked an eyebrow at Price. "Forgive me, for it seems that you have misunderstood me, Captain Price. General Chen might be corrupt, but he is also highly powerful and holds half the army's forces. If even our own army cannot take him down, do you think that three men and a captured woman can?" Obviously, they did not how to write the word "death" or so the Chinese cliche went. They would be dead upon encountering Chen's forces, with nothing but their skin and bones to be picked by the Americans and the Ultranationalists.

"Perhaps, Genereal Lee, that it is you, who have misunderstood us," Soap replied, with a determined look on his face. There was a hard edge on this young man that told the General that he was more than a pretty face, scarred as he is. This man had seen more than just gore and blood, this man knows what it means to fight a war, and what it took to win one. "We will do _everything_ we can to avenge what that man has done to us, our comrades and the United States of America."

If those words would not convince General Lee that he had made a good decision, then nothing would. "And I shall see to it you shall achieve your goals as best you can, son. This world has suffered too much, as it is."

* * *

Ryuka looked at Makarov and his retinue in the suite that he had shared with her for the past two days. There were about four or five men constantly around him, all heavily armed, and that night, they seemed to have a major operation on their to-do list. Laid out across the room, were cases filled with various guns and rifles, and the corresponding ammo, as if they were ordinary suitcases. "I thought you told me that you were masquerading as a travelling businessman," she told Makarov when he came into the bedroom, arming a Desert Eagle. "Why the hell do you need all these guns for?"

Makarov looked at her and smiled. "Darling, my business is with guns, it always has been," he told her. Oh, how he loved her look of sheer outrage whenever he would tease her so. There was no doubt that her thoughts were flying to the innocent victims at the Zakhaev International Airport, where he had staged a horrific massacre, by the look of her face. Kissing her forehead, he pressed the Desert Eagle into her hands. "Tonight, we are to _escort_ a very powerful General at a diamond exhibition, and it's purely business, I promise you. No massacres, no jewel heists, only _protection_."

"Hmph, no wonder General Lee dares to flaunt his great wealth," she replied brusquely, holstering the Desert Eagle on her thigh, hidden beneath the fabric of the gown she was wearing. "He has _your_ backing... is there no rule of law in the China anymore?" As the child of a Japanese and American union, a citizen of both countries, it was natural that Ryuka would have a great fascination and distaste towards that great nation, now almost the super-power that America had once been. Everything was made in China, the factories were able to keep costs down with overflowing amounts of cheap labor, and businessmen flocking into the Middle Kingdom to exploit her riches, there would be no doubt that China was as strong as she was now... But to keep an international terrorist in plain sight, and in Shanghai? It was madness!

"We must not speak ill of our hosts, Ryuka," Makarov chided, closing a case that held a light machine gun, the M240 and rows and rows of bullets. "Come, the General does not like to be kept waiting." Just before they walked out of their suite, he retrieved a luxurious fur shawl from a shopping bag that she did not know was placed there. "This is for you darling, I do not want you to freeze in this weather." They were in Shaghai, which was not a very cold place in winter, but she was wearing a rather slinky dress... Ryuka blushed as he wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, and the red tinge on her cheeks spread even more when he stood back a moment to admire her beauty. "Would you not smile for me, darling? Your beauty would be matchless if you did."You wil

Rolling her eyes, Ryuka shoved one of the cases on the floor into his hands. "Shut up, Makarov," she replied and walked out towards the door, following his men. She did not understand the man at all! Who was he to talk to her thus? He was her enemy for crying out loud, the terrorist with the blood of millions of innocents on his hands! Vladimir Makarov was not a human, he had no heart... _Tell yourself that honey, one day it'll come true, _a voice in her head sounded as she boarded the elevator, her arm wounded around Makarov's just for show. _He's just as human as you are... You just have to find it...

* * *

_"Your operations here will be assisted by our own agent," General Chen told the foreign soldiers, and shot a look towards Price. "I am sure that you would work quite well with _her_, it seems." Her? Well, at least the three of them already had more than enough experience working with a woman in the field, after all, Ryuka was not only an indispensable member of the team, she was one of the most capable and talented soldiers that most of them had seen.

"Uncle Price, what the hell are you doing here?"

That voice was so familiar... could it be that Ryuka managed to escape Makarov's clutches? However, Soap's hopes were dashed when the woman standing right before them did not have red hair and black eyes, despite the similarities almost in every other way possible. Wait a minute... that would mean that...

"Soap, Nickolai, I'd like you to meet Agent Ryurei Algren of the United Nations Intelligence Network," Price said, introducing the two others to the newcomer. "As you would have guessed, she's Reddie's sister." Since when did the UN have an Intel network, and since when did Ryurei had a sister that resembled her so closely?

"I know that you may be confused," Ryurei told Soap and Nickolai. "But all will be revealed in due time. For now, my sister is in the hands of a vile beast and I should really like to burn your asses off because of that." Ah, there was that family resemblance that they were looking for. It seemed that Price had been right in saying that Ryuka was not much different than her older sister. But how does a soldier deployed from the Japanese army end up with the UN? To answer their question, Ryurei answered, "My sister and I were working as diplomatic combatants in the Middle East when we were discovered by two different people..."

Soap raised an eyebrow. "Diplomatic combatants?" he had never heard of the term before. Ryurei explained that after WWII, Japan's armies were sanctioned, and could not deploy its armies unless by order of the UN, which was why the Algren sisters were in the Middle East in the first place, where they had been working as undercover informants, gathering information from militant-formed orphanages."What else do we need to know?"

"That a diamond exhibition is held tonight in a prestigous hotel," Ryurei replied, "And your best friend, Makarov is masquerading as a businessman selling security services, with my sister as some form of arm-candy. Tonight's operation would be to assess the situation, gentlemen. We do not know how deep is their 'comradeship', so to speak."

* * *

Ryuka looked across the exhibition hall, and found that it was filled with nothing but diamonds and socialites... Perhaps in a different world, at a different time, her eyes would be gouged out by the sheer size of the diamonds on display. "See anything you like, darling?" Makarov asked her, obviously a ploy to her ears.

"What if I said that I want the biggest, shiniest Hearts and Arrows diamond, what would you do?" she asked coyly, a small smirk forming on the corner of her mouth. It was then when she saw him... Soap, standing right there in front of her, in a suit, still with his mohawk... Her eyes were about to be filled with tears when they stopped at a display worth 5 million Euros, and Soap nodded to her, mouthing to her that he would meet her in the foyer before disappearing into the crowds.

Makarov looked at the diamond and back at her. "Ryuka, this is just a little trifle compared to what I can do for you," he said, and motioned for one of the organizers to come to them. With a smile, Ryuka stopped him, and told him that she was only joking with him. "Darling, what is wrong?" he asked, when he saw that her eyes were reddened.

"Nothing," she replied as he kissed her temple. If it aimed to reassure her, he was failing completely. What was Soap doing here? Did he not know that Makarov has his men trailing him, Price and Nickolai everyy single moment? "I need to use the washroom, please excuse me."

* * *

Soap stood before the foyer of the exhibition hall and waited for Ryuka to appear. "John!" now that was truly her voice, and she ran towards him. "You should not be here... if Makarov knows..."

He did not care. "Makarov could have already known," he whispered into her air, enveloping her in his arms. "Whatever you do, Ryuka, stay calm... Your sister is with General Chen, and we'll do everything we can to get you out."

"One-chan is here? Mactavish, you have to tell me everything!" Ryuka replied, but Soap silenced her with a passionate kiss, one that she had missed sorely. Somehow, it calmed her, and when their lips parted, she sunk back into his embrace. "John, forgive me... for what I have done with Makarov."

Soap nodded, and kissed her forehead as he fisted her red hair, styled into elegant waves. "You did what you had to do to survive, no one could blame you, Reddie," he told her. "Listen, you have to go now, or Makarov would know that you are here. We're gonna take him down soon, don't you worry."

"What would you have me do?" she asked him as they pulled away from one another, save for their still-joined hands.

"We'd have to wing it, Ryuka, there is no other way," he answered. Wing it, did he say? As far as missions went, they had never done so. Every single endeavor that they had taken, was meticulously planned, never random, for they could not risk anything to happen out of their calculations. But now, now that they had nothing, they could risk everything. "Go, now..." If she did not leave that very moment, he may not be able to let her go...

Dutifully, she nodded, and went back into the hall, right at the diamond that Makarov thought that she had wanted. "Ah, darling, where have you-" His words hung short when she pressed her lips against his, kissing him all of a sudden. It caused many eyes to divert towards them, but she did not care. Now that she knew that Soap and the others were safe, and that her sister was there, she was willing to take any chance she could. When the kiss had broken, a smile formed across Makarov's face. "I knew you'd warm up to me."

"I do not need that diamond," she told the man who was packing it into an ornate jewelry box and Makarov. "I have everything I want, in here..." She pressed her hand to his heart, and forced herself to smile the most brilliant smile that she could ever muster. She could feel his heartbeat quicken, and in the corner of her eye, she could see Price, who gave her a thumbs up at the catwalk above. The Russian's response was to tip her over and kiss her just as suddenly as she did him, with sounds of roaring applause surrounding them.


	6. Charged

The ride from the hotel to another restaurant had been almost excruciatingly painful for Makarov. He was not in any physical pain, but the thought of Ryuka's actions drove him crazy. Why and how did she become so bold with him all of a sudden? Had she somehow regrouped with her companions, or, did she really, really warm up to him? Wait a minute; she was his prisoner in the first place, a spoil of war that he had claimed for himself. This woman was a Westerner, who holds ideals far different than he, so much so that she was willing to kill him upon sight… But from the very first moment that he claimed her soft, luscious lips, he knew that his body had called for her… _There are other women, you fool, and she is ultimately dangerous,_ he could just imagine Zakhaev's voice stomping through his mind, but it mattered not. He remembered how fearful she had been for the lives of her comrades, so much so that she was willing to submit to him; she had no other choice but to please him, and that was what she was doing.

"You should thank me," she whispered into his ear as the limousine drove into the very heart of the city. This man, she knew, had fallen right into the net that she had decided to weave. He may be a sadistic terrorist, but deep down inside, he was still a man, and men only had one thing on their minds. When they decide to channel such a basic desire to something else, something that served them a higher purpose, they would be lost, and the moment they discovered it again, they would lose all their former discipline, and come tumbling down when a woman comes along their way, and promises them endless possibilities of sex. She was lucky that Makarov was still young and virile, and even more so that he expected her to return the same considerations that he had towards her. A sly, seductive smile ran across her flawless face, causing him to smile as well, "I saved you five million Euros."

Makarov chuckled. "I told you before, darling, that is nothing to me," he replied, drawing her into another kiss, one that she quickly took dominance of. "And you, what has gotten into you?" he asked in return. "I swore that you hated me down to your very core…"

Sighing, Ryuka turned away and looked outside the window. "I still love John," she answered, "You must know this, but I will do everything to make sure that he lives, even if I have to love you as well." Bingo. In truth, by the time Soap had appeared, she knew that Makarov had deceived her. He did not have his men after Soap, Price and Nickolai, nor did he know where they were. He had been so sure that Shepherd had taken care of all of them, considering the fact that they were proclaimed to be MIA. Makarov had taken her from Dushanbe, shot her, and tricked her into allowing him sexual favors… One day, she would have him pay for what he had done to her. Every night she spent with him, she could see the dead bodies of her brothers in arms; hear the cries of millions of innocents that had been slaughtered throughout his reign of terror.

"Then so be it," he replied, and raised the privacy barrier between them and the driver's seat, ensuring that they were truly alone. Slowly, he positioned her on his lap, and kissed her hungrily. He did not care about her motives, so long that she was there, with him, and for him. Their tongues met, and he could feel himself getting more and more aroused. It did not matter; they had a good twenty minutes to their destination… Snaking his hand through the high slit of her gown, he cupped her tight buttocks and moaned as she nibbled on his neck. "Darling, you would be the death of me," he rasped, causing her to smile seductively.

_And so I shall…_ she thought, deftly encircling her legs around his waist, the Desert Eagle on her thigh in clear view. "You never really had sex with a woman who could shoot with a gun, have you not?" she whispered her question into his ear, licking his earlobe slowly.

"That is why I have you now, darling," came his reply, and soon, they found themselves on the floor of the limousine, with him above her. This, would be twenty minutes of his life that Makarov would never forget.

* * *

"I've got to hand it to you, Reddie is a brilliant actress," Nickolai said on the Pave Low. The Chinese had given the helicopter a fresh coat of paint, and some Chinese markings to better disguise it, much to Nickolai's chagrin, but it turned out well. What Makarov did not know was that Ryuka had with her, special communications devices that could be attached to any substance, and it was small enough to be attached to one of her earrings that also had black diamonds, without being detected. They were trailing General Chen's convoy, and Makarov's limousine was not far behind it… In fact, they were extremely lucky that Ryuka was there to take his attention somewhere else.

Price however, was not that convinced of Ryuka's reasoning. "Has it occurred to anyone that Makarov might see through Ryuka?" he asked. The thought of Ryuka in the arms of Makarov was highly disturbing, and he was rather surprised to see Soap being so calm about it.

"He won't," Soap replied. "I know what you're thinking, Price, but Ryuka has handled her share of missions like this." They were soldiers. They had chosen to give their lives to ensure the peace of their own countries and the world. For a long time now, Soap and Ryuka had come to terms that with her beauty, there always would be missions when she would have to use her natural assets to ensure that their success. Whatever happened on those missions would stay there. He trusted her, and he knew that she trusted him to do so as well. "We've got to have faith in her."

"Well, I've got to tell you one thing," Price said, "Her father would not like it."

"Her father already knows about everything," Ryurei's voice sounded into each of their receivers. "Uncle Price, it may be degrading, but we believe that we would do everything necessary to win a war. A little sex with a global terrorist is worth the price to pay for the salvation of an entire nation. Black Dragon out."

At those words, Nickolai said, "Da, we've come this far now, there's no turning back." The Russian was right. There really was no turning back. They had more than their fair share of war, and now, it was just another day at the office for them.

* * *

No matter how many times Makarov would take her, Ryuka would always feel the same, and she was thankful for it. Not that she loved to feel as if she was betraying the entire world and the man she loved, but it was comforting to her that she felt that way, which anchored her to the reality that Makarov was the enemy. In all honesty to herself, while he was rather…capable in the arts of bed sport, she preferred Soap's more passionate touch, where even the foreplay would raise her into terrifying heights before she was brought crashing down onto the world below.

"We're here," he told her, kissing the side of her neck while they quickly neatened themselves up. Luckily for them, there was not an eyelash out of place. He moved to her lips again, and she readily obliged him a kiss. "I hope you find that shark's fin delectable."

A smile formed on her lips, and she kissed him again. "Makarov, I grew up eating whale burgers," she told him, reminding him that she was Japanese. "I think I can handle shark's fin." With that, he took her hand and led her out of the limousine and into the restaurant, which was decorated in red and gold, as though it was some sort of palace. They went up a flight of stairs, and into a private room where a uniformed military-man was already seated at the round table, with five fully armed soldiers behind him, and a very, very familiar female dressed much like her.

It was her older sister, Ryurei. Ah, what wonders contact lenses, and the art of contouring using makeup could do to a woman. In life, Ryurei had hazel eyes, and black hair, albeit a slight Western-like complexion. Other than that, she looked exactly like Ryuka, but not in that setting. She had made her cheekbones higher, and her nose sharper… _Damn I need to know where she got that eyeshadow,_ Ryuka joked to herself.

The men greeted one another, and Ryuka waited until Makarov introduced her to General Chen, which was rather needless. This man was famous for being the most corrupt official in China, but due to his military influence, none of those above dared to even move an inch of his hair out of place. There really was no surprise why such a man would harbor Makarov in plain sight, really. "General Chen, this is Ryuka Algren," Makarov said to the general in Chinese, snaking his arm around Ryuka's. Luckily for him, her military career was rather concealed, and had nothing to do with his host at all.

General Chen looked at Ryuka appreciatively and shook her hand. "Such a beautiful girl, no wonder you almost had him buying a five million Euro diamond just by looking at it." There was a false bout of laughter that followed, and she was quickly "introduced" to Ryurei, who was supposedly Chen's secretary. "Now come, the two of you must be famished,"

As they walked towards the table, Makarov whispered into her ear, "I didn't know that you spoke Chinese, darling," while Ryuka just replied that she was full of surprises. Indeed, there was more to her than meets the eye, and he knew that he was starting to get spellbound by her.

* * *

"One-chan, I want to know everything that is going on here," Ryuka told her sister the very moment they were out of earshot by Makarov and Chen's men in the ladies' room far from where they had been dining for the past hour. The men had started to break into business, while it was the opportune moment to the ladies to "catch up" with one another. Very early on into the dinner, Ryurei had feigned indifference to the younger woman, and was obviously putting an air of jealousy over Ryuka's fur shawl, which she had hinted to the general with a few pouts and glares. "Why the hell are you with that General and how did John and Uncle Price contact you?"

Ryurei rolled her eyes. That was her little sister, ever so eager with little patience to be spoken of. "They trespassed Chinese airspace with a Russian Pave Low, Ryuka-chan, they were discovered the moment they landed. I was on assignment to bring Chen down by China's request of the UN, when the guy I was reporting to found them out. And now, we're partners in this." There was too much detail to be exchanged in too little time, and she had to be brief. "All I know is that Chen is planning to buy several MIG fighters from Makarov, and we have to stop that transaction. Uncle Price and Mactavish are now in position, and they will take this building down with about a hundred men the very moment Makarov and Chen signs the contract that they had agreed upon earlier."

"This is your version of winging it?" Ryuka demanded of her sister, who nodded as she reapplied a layer of lipstick. "I never thought that you would actually embrace the concept." Ryurei had been more careful than she was, and would only take a course of action when she knew that it was the best and only way to deal with the issue before her.

"Perhaps I learned it from the best?" Ryurei asked in return. "Oh, and Oka-chan called, she wants Mactavish in Tokyo for dinner when everything has been settled… What's so funny?" The younger Algren sister was chuckling, at a time like this? She should be so afraid for her life that she could not stand straight!

Ryuka held onto one of the mirrors for support and answered, "No, it's just that it's been so long since I have had a mission with you. I never thought that Oka-chan would know about John so fast." Their mother was had been like them, a Japanese Special Ops agent, and but when she had retired from the field, was an ordinary housewife. Make that an ordinary housewife who could pull out an M240 machine gun next to her pots and pans faster than one could reload a sidearm. Silently, she offered a prayer of thanks that her parents were currently living in Tokyo, far from all the mess that she and her sister were in.

* * *

"I see that you have made a new friend," Makarov said when Ryuka reentered with Ryurei. For a moment there, she thought that he had seen through their plans, but luckily, there was nothing in his body language to show that. "You know, there is something uncannily similar about you and Chen's secretary."

Chen heard his words, and said, "Now, my friend, you Westerners think that we Asians all look the same." Ryuka may have a Western surname, but there was nothing Western about her features. As far as he was concerned, hair could be dyed, and took her strange coloring as a common fashion statement.

Ryuka chuckled at the general's words. "I suppose that the General is right, _dear_." She knew that if given the chance, Makarov would be doing back-flips out of joy by now at the last word that she had used. He kissed for forehead lightly, and soon, the jovial air was cleared into a more business-like one. Terms had been negotiated, that Makarov would supply more arms to Chen, while Rojas' capture had been stated as a minor setback. A minor setback? While she had not been on that mission, Ryuka knew that when Soap and his team captured Rojas, Rio de Janeiro's militia came firing down at them… She could feel Makarov's hand squeezing hers as the conversation went deeper and deeper into more dirty deals, and she hoped that every moment of it would end soon.

_Peace, you are now closer to Makarov than Joseph Allen could ever be. If you get through this, his death would not be in vain,_ the voice inside her cautioned. _Not to mention, Ghost, Roach, Archer, Toad…_ As the names of her comrades surfaced in her mind, she started to calm herself down, they were too far into the mission and she knew it. She could not be the one who would jeopardize the mission.

Two hours later, the deal was settled, and General Chen's lawyers quickly drew up a contract promising Makarov an airbase in Xinjiang, and 5 billion Euros worth of ammunitions and arms for Chen. Ryuka looked at the number and thought of the amount of innocents that would be killed, or have already lost their lives to so bloody a deal. Once the two men had signed the contract, the door was blasted open, revealing Price, Soap and Nickolai, while Ryurei pressed a UP.45 onto Chen's temple. "General Chen, you are under arrest for harboring the international terrorist, Vladimir Makarov, corruption and other crimes," she stated before reading him his rights.

"There's nowhere to run, Makarov," Price warned. "Give Ryuka back and we'll let you live if you come with us quietly." However, there was another plan up Makarov's sleeves. The Russian deftly seized Ryuka into his arms and held her at gunpoint as well.

"I should have known that this is a trap," Makarov replied, "You may have deceived me with the presence of a beautiful woman, but do not think that you have won." Slowly, he kissed Ryuka before all of them, savoring her taste on his lips for the last time, and shot General Chen in the head and burnt the contract by throwing it into the air and shooting the piece of paper into shreds. "Now, on what terms are you going to charge me again?"


	7. Renewed

"Such a beautiful woman," Makarov said, kissing Ryuka's neck as he continued to use her as a human shield. "Intelligent, elegant, and ultimately seductive… I wonder how many men have fallen into such a dangerous trap that she had woven…" Soap knew that the Russian was only trying to provoke them into doing something that they would regret, but he knew that if he did not save Ryuka now, they would not be able to take Makarov down.

Ryuka winced as she felt the fingers of his free hand brush against her cleavage, his hot breath on her neck. Slowly, she reached for the Desert Eagle that he himself had given her, and shot him in the calf, making a break towards her sister as Soap pulled her behind him. Finally, she was free of Makarov, and she quickly cast off the jewels that she came adorned with, reaching for a more appropriate M4A1 Grenadier, her favorite weapon. "No offense Makarov, but I did what I did for the rest of the world," she told him, "I hope that you would understand."

Immediately, rounds were fired all across the room, General Lee's men against General Chen's, and the Task Force 141's against Makarov's. Quickly he was threw himself onto the flight of stairs closest to him and started to run towards the roof, with Ryuka, Soap and Price in close chase, Ryurei and Nickolai close behind them.

"Give up Makarov, there's only one way down, and the Chinese has it covered," Soap proclaimed, taking aim. There would be no chances to be taken, not even after he was sure that Ryuka was safely out of his reach. He could practically taste the freedom in the air, the ability to walk in the streets without having the world recognize who he was, to have the chance of being prosecuted then and there.

"You think that you can capture me here, with the Dragon backing you," Makarov replied, "But you are wrong. If you are here to avenge your fallen brothers, then let me tell you this: revenge is like a ghost, and it takes over every man it touches… If you kill me, then there are many more who will take my place. It is a vicious cycle."

That, they had known earlier on. Soap had killed Zakhaev, thinking that he would end the Ultranationalist reign of terror in Russia, only to have Makarov rising and making Zakhaev nothing short of a national hero who martyred himself in the name of Mother Russia. "Then you can end this by coming into light," Ryuka reasoned, "Makarov, this world has seen too much war… Can you bear to see two of the greatest powers on Earth with no young men, only women, the old and the young? You have spilt more blood than this war ever has. You can stop it here and now."

"Hence, I am in a position of power," Makarov said. "What is it that you want from me, all of you?" he asked, looking at Price, Soap, Ryuka, and at the others as well. "Wealth? Ask Ryuka that, I do not have a care for it, or is it power, the ability to move nations, as I have?"

"We want our lives back," was the answer that Ryuka had given. "To be able to grieve for those who left us behind, Makarov. To tell my mother that I have found the man I love. The only way that you can do it is to confirm that Shepherd was the one who told you that Alexei Borodin was Joseph Allen."

Makarov seemed to ponder that fact, and shot the ground ten inches from where she stood. "As much as I would like to cooperate, you know what lies ahead for men like me. It's either the noose or the electric chair," he told her. "That is not a pleasant fate, darling." Inwardly, he hoped that she was covered in some struggle within herself, to choose her old teammates of the broken Task Force 141, or him. And he hoped that she chose him, even if he knew that she had deceived him from the start.

"What about you giving us what we want and I will ensure that you will not get the death sentence, but only a lifetime in prison?" Ryurei asked. "You would be in a high security prison, but you will have every luxury that you can imagine. The only price is your freedom, but you would not die until you have to."

A chuckle escaped Makarov's lips. "And who are you to give me this, Miss Algren?" he asked Ryurei, whose resemblance to Ryuka was clearer and clearer to him. Really, he had to beat off women from a stick the very moment he got himself out of this puddle.

"I work for the UN, and unlike you, we believe in human rights," was the reply.

"And have every single nation voice their grievances over me?" Makarov asked. "I would not risk that, Miss Algren. As we speak, I am now America's scapegoat to rationalize a war against my own country…" His eyes widened. How could he be fooled by women twice in a row, and just seconds after he had warned himself against it? There was no doubt that they would have some sort of recording device with them. "Alright, you have won. Congratulations… How very… manipulative of you."

"Makarov, I will give you my word," Ryurei reassured him. "I swear upon my life and that of my sister's that the most that you will get is a life sentence." She looked at Ryuka and tipped her head slightly to request some extra leverage from her sister. Even in this state, injured, and cornered, she knew that Ryuka would be the least hated by Makarov.

"She's speaking the truth, Makarov," Ryuka offered gently. "I know my sister more than anyone else in this whole world…"

Makarov looked at Ryuka, and the rest of them. He would not be a prisoner in this situation, if anything, he would be the one who would set the rules. "It seems that all of you need me more than I need you," he said smugly. "Very well, I will yield, but with one condition…" Still, his eyes were fixed on Ryuka, unmoving, and unchanging. He was done for, he knew it very well. This woman had been sent by God to bring him to justice, and if it was to be his end, it would be an end that he had made for himself.

"What is it?" Price asked, having a guy feeling inside him that made him regret his question almost immediately.

"A week, undisturbed, with Ryuka in Geneva."

He had come so far to be brought to his knees, quite literally, by a woman whom he had thought to be his prize. He might claim that she had deceived him, but he knew that it was he who had deceived her in the first place. When he met her in Dushanbe, he had told her that he had her friends followed and marked when he did not even know that they had survived their encounter with Shepherd, and that lie continued on until just a few hours ago… The time that they had spent had been short, only two days to be honest, but Makarov knew that it was enough time for her heart to be stirred. He could offer her much more than any other man could… Within a week, he would have been able to break free from the UN from under its nose, and hopefully, with Ryuka by his side. Never has a woman captivated him so, and he knew that there would be no other woman to replace her.

* * *

The past few days had been hell on earth for Ryuka. Just the week previous, she had lost more than she could ever imagined, and then she had been captured by the man who caused all her pain, only to find herself forced to warm his bed. She would not stand for another second to be with him, but when she looked into his eyes, one of emerald, and the other of sapphire, she knew that there was no other way. They had come so far, and victory was right in their grasp… For the world, Ryuka would swallow her own pride and her own need for vengeance, and agree to Makarov's terms, but with one of her own. "I will have two designated snipers who will protect me at all times," she told him sternly. Of course, those snipers would be Price and Soap, who were more than happy to have the job.

"If that is the only thing that you ask, then so be it," Makarov replied, taking out his hand. "I ask only a week with you, and nothing more. Starting from the moment the both of us are in Geneva together."

A week with Makarov? Lord knows what he would do in a week! Ryuka cursed herself inwardly as they boarded Nickolai's Pave Low with her sister as well. Makarov and his men had already left the building, and had fled skywards in a helicopter of their own. "What have I gotten myself into?" she asked, rubbing her temples as she felt Soap wrap an arm around her shoulder. It was not like she had a choice in saying no… "Can anyone please tell me that I'm crazy?"

"You definitely are," Ryurei answered, handing her a bottle of water that Nickolai had indicated. She would have to report the situation to her superiors in the UN, but she doubted that anyone would not allow Makarov a week's worth of freedom if he would surrender himself willingly. "Ryuka-chan, what you're doing is for the good of the world."

Ryuka raised a questioning eyebrow at her sister. If that was for the good of the world, what did she achieve for the past two days? She could not even count how many times she and Makarov… never mind. What mattered now was that she was back to those that she had belonged with, and she was happy. Any more words about the issue would just be killing it, and she knew that none of them would have allowed Makarov to just grab her and get away scot-free.

* * *

"Do you regret this mission?" Ryuka asked Soap, feeling his arms wrap around her waist as she laid over him in the huge bath-tub in General Lee's summer residence. The two of them had been given a huge room that night, and they wasted no time to utilize it fully. The past two weeks had been definitely trying for all of them, and they had thought that it was nothing but a routine mission when they had first started out. Ryuka was even on her week off when the Russo-American war had started.

Soap kissed the back of her neck and told her, "None of it." He was not one for words, not like Ryuka or Makarov, but he knew that everything happened for a reason, it was the world's way of showing him the paths that he should choose. If he had went straight for her, Makarov may never even give his confession that he was made into Shepherd's scapegoat so easily. "Reddie, forgive me for asking this, but why didn't you like Makarov? It's not like you to feel this much hatred for a guy when you're on the field…"

He could feel Ryuka tighten the hold of his arms around her, breathing in heavily as she thought about her answer. "I know that he is handsome, and I know that he is charismatic, but everything comes to nothing, because when he bedded me, I couldn't feel anything," she answered. "I felt no heat, no passion, not even fear… But Makarov, he seemed to have the most pleasure when he thought that I only submitted to him because I feared him, and it made me think about everything that he had done…" Her voice stopped, and she knew that she could not continue any longer. In truth, Makarov even promised her power, the option to join him and become the leader of a new world order by his side… She knew that for a moment there, she would have taken his hand when he stretched it out for her to grasp, and it scared her.

"Shh, its fine now," Soap told her turning her towards him and pressing a finger against her lips. "We're back together again, and nothing can come between us now." Of course, there was Geneva, but Makarov would be under constant surveillance, there would be nothing that he could do to her against her own volition.

"I love you," Ryuka murmured, before pressing his lips against hers, grasping either side of his face. She knew that she had rarely said this to him, but now, she knew that it mattered the world to her if she had said it. Soon, he took dominance over the kiss, positioning her below him, ensuring that no part of her was untouched by his lips. A soft moan escaped the depths of her throat, and she wound her arms around his neck as he kissed her hungrily.

She was where she belonged, right there, in Soap's arms. Once again, she was brought to the only place in the world where she felt safe, and did not need to keep the strong front that she was used to defend the world, and herself. When she was alone with the man she loved, she was nothing but Ryuka, and only Ryuka. "I love you too," was Soap's reply, a genuine one, because she could see how his damned blue eyes twinkle in the soft amber light of the luxurious marble bathroom.

To those words, Ryuka smiled, and filled him with kisses of her own. "John, show me what that bastard cannot to do me," she whispered into his ears, her voice pleading him. She needed him, she needed him oh-so badly, and she knew that he had waited a long time for that moment as well.

And he made love to her, softly, at first, as though she had been a perfectly crafted piece of glass, but when he knew that she was no longer afraid, their old passions resumed. They had taken one another, in mutual need and desire, not only there in the marble bathroom, but also in the bedroom, and even in the spacious closet filled with the luxurious items of General Lee's late wife.

In his arms, Ryuka was finally safe, and she knew that wherever he would be, she would be home. All of a sudden, the terrors of Makarov and his dark promises had disappeared, leaving only Soap and she was relieved.


	8. Shocked

Geneva, Switzerland. The home of many international organizations, the Red Cross, and more financial institutions one could ever count. It was where the UN could keep an eye on him, although their organizations there had totally nothing to do with Makarov and his crimes, it was relatively neutral ground, and a rather peaceful city.

"Why do you even want me here, Makarov?" Ryuka asked him the moment he welcomed her from the nearby Swiss air-base. The UN Security Council had granted his request, and Lieutenant Ryuka Algren of the Japanese Imperial Army would accompany him for exactly 168 hours from that very second, guarded by two snipers designated by the Swiss army. Soap and Price would be with the two snipers, to guide them of any sudden movements that Makarov would take.

The Russian looked at her and gave her a rather disappointed expression. "And here I was thinking that you generally cared for me," the angered expression on her face, no matter how many times he had seen it, was just priceless. "To tell you the truth, I do not know why myself, Ryuka. You hate me to the very inch of my being, and I know that you wish nothing but to see me behind bars… But when I am with you, it is like I have found my match… I should like to use the remaining week of my freedom knowing you better."

Ryuka might not notice it, but her face almost became completely red when she heard what he had to say. "You sicken me," she cursed at him as she walked beside him, into the Porsche Carrera that was waiting for them outside the airbase… How did he know that this was her dream car?

"It is as beautiful and powerful as you are," he whispered into her ear, his hand wandering on the small of her back. "Sleek, elegant, with the roar of a lion…" He dangled the keys before her, as if challenging her to drive it, and readily, she accepted the challenge.

The drive into the city was ultimately breathtaking, especially when they were on the sides of the Lake Geneva. The sparkling waters of the lake reminded her of the deepest sapphires, while the clouds above in the clear, blue skies provided the greatest contrast ever. She had been in Geneva before, a long time ago, when she and her sister came with their family during their school holidays. The view was so beautiful, that she decided to park the car the first chance she could, and got down to look out into the crystalline waters, forgetting the vile piece of meat that sat in the car with her.

"Sugoi kirei…" she murmured in Japanese, leaning onto the bonnet of the vehicle. Just listening to the water hugging the shore made her still with wonder. "How could you ever bear to see such beauty marred, Makarov?" she asked him, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. She knew that he wished to destroy the Western world that he had claimed had destroyed Russia, and found it ironic that he would face his impending imprisonment where all the Western organizations would be, with the woman who brought this upon him.

"There must always be war before peace, darling," Makarov answered, "As a soldier, I think you understand that very well…" He looked into her dark eyes, and found that she was hanging onto every single word that he had spoken. Her ancestor had been a proponent of such a notion, and she too had carved out a new age in Japan with her bare hands and her katana. She was not in a mood to discuss their respective political views, but now that she knew that he was going to get what he had deserved, it was only right that she gave him the treatment that he had deserved. For the first time in his life, he saw her smile, and it was highly dangerous. If he had taken another look at her, he would have sold his own soul to her.

When she smiled, all her features lit up, her eyes, they seemed to be filled with a light that he could not place, drawing him into those dark pools more and more. "My ancestor once said those words before," she told him. "She had been a Samurai, like the rest of the men, and was greatly respected throughout the ranks of the Ishin-Ishishi, which crippled the Shogunate to pave way for the Meiji Restoration."

Makarov knew his military history well. It was because of the Meiji Restoration that Russia had lost to Japan in a war already forgotten in current times. No wonder she was such a fiery soul… It must have been passed down from generation to generation. "Do you have other surprises for me, Ryuka?" he asked, cautiously approaching her. He had taken too many chances with her, and he had failed. However, unlike the other times, she did not glare at him, nor did she try to kill him…

"I do," she told him, still smiling. "For this week only, with you, I shall be only Ryuka."

* * *

Soap listened to their conversation and turned off his earpiece, not out of jealously, but he did not feel the need to continue. Ryuka knew fully the actions that she should take, and because she knew that Makarov had been so smitten with her, that he would even agree to surrender, just because of her, she would be herself with him, and not the cunning, fiery soldier that she was so famous for being. That was his Ryuka.

"Boy, is he in for the shocker," Price said, shaking his head. "You know, Ryuka's grown up a whole lot now… Makarov could have been dead if he met her years ago." Ryuka had been prized because of her quick thinking and adaptability into every situation, but these traits often overshadowed her tendencies to go against direct orders due to her highly unorthodox trains of thought. "You did good stabilizing her, Soap."

"What?" Soap did not understand what Price had meant by that at all. "Sorry, old man, you lost me there." Price told Soap that Ryuka had stopped being so unyielding because he had given her the reason to think back on her actions. In her first days in the Japanese army, she would have to put up with sexist bigots who only accepted her because of her almost infamous Japanese ancestry. In the Task Force 141, she had been more appreciative of her team-mates, which gave her a chance of weighing two courses of action against each other.

However, that still did not stop her from actively seeking paths for her own self. Her choice to seduce Makarov into his surrender had never been their plans to take the terrorist down, and Soap knew that it was a dangerous one for her to take. Her pursuit had now forced her into a crossroads where she could only choose which way to follow, and Soap knew that she had already made her choice, although she was yet to reveal it. He knew this, because she had been so brutally honest with him regarding her days with Makarov, and the choices that he had given to her. He loved her for it, because she trusted him with her soul, which she had bared to him time and time again. Whatever she chose, he was sure to back her up, no matter her decision.

* * *

On the third night, Ryuka and Makarov spent the night in a serviced apartment in a rather posh neighborhood, where they would be housed for the entire week, filled with activities that ranged from shopping, to visits to museums and art galleries. All that had seen them on the streets could have thought that they were a young couple enjoying the time of their lives. How wrong they could have been… Now, they were in the living room, where a glorious fire was lit, and Makarov asked her why she wielded a katana.

"Ken wa kioki, kenjutsu wa satsu jin jutsu…" she told him as she allowed him to look at her katana, which he had duly returned to her. "It means 'the sword is the weapon of murder, and kenjutsu is the skill that allows one to kill'. It has been my family motto for years and years."

Her katana had belonged to her maternal grandmother, and even until now, it was still as sharp as the day it had been forged. She had even told him that her parents were actually descended from the same maternal line, where the females were all fully-ranked samurai, and hence, it had been a tradition for the daughters to have the word "ryu", which meant "dragon" in Japanese. That was why now, in modern times, most of her family were soldiers in one form to the other. "Family must mean a lot to you," Makarov said to her, placing her katana respectfully into her white hands. "I never knew my family… All I remembered of my childhood was growing up in an orphanage, and wanting to show the world what I could do even if I was an orphan…"

"No wonder you're a murderous asshole," she joked, nudging him with her elbow. That smile on her face, it was highly infectious, as it had been a great danger. "Have you ever thought of any 'ifs' that you had come across?" she asked him, "Say, if you were able to choose a different path…"

Makarov's answer was a single, and straightforward, "No," but it seemed so much more to her. All of a sudden, his cold, deadly persona had melted into just a highly disturbed individual with anger issues. She could live with that, if he did not massacre thousands of innocents. "Would you regret all the choices that you have made for yourself?" he asked her as well, and to that, she shook her head. "So far, it has led me to you, how can I ever regret it?"

At those words, Ryuka cast her eyes away from his, as though she had been ashamed of what she has done. "How can you love the woman that made your incarceration possible?" she asked him, "and who only knew you for a week?" She had not been a firm believer of love at first sight, and she did not expect Makarov to be the person who would actually believe that. Moreover, she had already given her heart to another man, could he had not known that?

Tipping her chin so that she would be forced to look at him, Makarov said, "Because you made me feel what it is like to feel again, Ryuka. Even if it was only lust…" That answer was not what she had been waiting for, nor was it what she had expected. How was she able to continue hating him, if he could answer her in that manner? "You are beautiful as you are intelligent, we can are equals in this game of war, because we fight on our own terms."

"Please, Makarov, stop it," Ryuka begged, standing up from the sofa. "I know what you are asking of me, I know that you want me to come with you, but it's not going to work out if I do." When he asked why, she could not help but blink back a tear, which he had kissed away before it was able to flow away from her dark eye. "Those men that Shepherd had killed at your safehouse, those that had fallen in Rio de Janeiro, and in the Gulag you locked Uncle Price in, those men were my brothers. We fought together, and were with each other through thick and thin. Their souls are crying for vengeance, and already I know that I cannot kill you. If I took your hand, I would not be able to handle the guilt that I would have let them down… Shepherd might be dead, but if you are still active, many more men would die, and their deaths would be for nothing…"

Makarov heard her words, and he said nothing. Slowly, he enveloped her in his arms, pushing her head to his chest as he kissed her forehead. Those words gave him hope that if they could have met in different circumstances, there would be a chance that she would have loved him as well. "Thank you," he murmured into her flame-red hair. He did not care if there had been the possibility that she could have been acting again, those words had been what he wanted to hear from her voice. And there they remained that way, until Ryuka slowly pulled away from him, apologizing. "Darling, it is I who had caused you so much pain, do not apologize to me," he told her, placing a finger on her lips.

Soon, her watch started beeping. Midnight had already come. With only 72 hours left of freedom, Makarov sighed deeply. But at least, he would still to spend what remaining time he had with the woman who had stolen his heart from the very first moment that he laid eyes on her. "I should go," Ryuka told him. Now, it was the moment where the man would usually kiss the woman before they parted ways, and it relieved her that Makarov did not do so. "Goodnight," she wished him, and retired into her room.

The morning would give them new answers, Makarov thought, oh, how wrong he had been.

* * *

The next morning, Ryuka woke up feeling a little woozy and almost fainted as they had breakfast in one of the many alfresco restaurants in the city. That had created enough panic that even Price and Soap, ever shadowing their tracks appeared when she had been rushed into the Swiss army's medical hospital by helicopter, because she was now on a UN-ordered mission to keep Makarov in check for the week, she could not be sent to just any hospital.

At Ryuka's request, all three men were not allowed to follow her into the doctor's office, and it had been an eternity and a day for them until she had emerged from the enclosed space. There was nothing to be read from her expression, which was blank and vacant. Soap had been the first to get to her, and took her hands in his, silently comforting her, while Makarov stood close by. Closing her eyes and inhaling a deep breath, she walked towards Makarov and said, "Congratulations, Vladimir Makarov, I am carrying your son or daughter."


	9. Ended

Miryu had been raised in the Task Force 141 Headquarters, in the vicinity of the United Nations buildings, ever since she was born, and was a special, special child. Born with hetereochromia iridium, she had mismatched eyes, with one brown eye, and the other was a dark jade color, she was raised to be her own woman. Like her mother before her, she was taught in a style of kenjutsu, known only to their maternal line, and was given her own katana at the age of sixteen.

She was the daughter of Ryuka Algren, the Task Force 141 field commander that had brought the world's worst terrorist, a Russian psychopath, whom her mother would not discuss without much coaxing. She grew up knowing that John "Soap" Mactavish was not her biological father, and would often ask who her father was, and too often, everyone whom she asked would answer, "He was a patriot who loved his country."

When she was nineteen years old, and had decided that she would not undertake a military career like her parents, Ryuka knew that it was time. One Sunday when the sunlight had poured over the shooting range, she called her daughter to her, and said, "Before you go to back college this fall, there is something that I have to tell you."

"What is it, Oka-san?" Miryu asked. The expression on her mother's face had been nigh unreadable, which was rare. The dark gaze of her mother was directed at a picture, of a man in a suit. "Whose picture is this?" Strangely, she could not help but feel something stir within her when she looked at the man in the picture. There was something about him that nagged at her sides. The man with mismatched eyes, just like her…

A smile came to the corner of her mother's mouth, and she passed the picture to her. "You don't know who this is, Miryu-chan?" Ryuka asked. Strange… a child this curious, ever asking who her father was… However, throughout her daughter's formative years, she had destroyed every single trace of Vladimir Makarov from her life, so there could be little possibility that she would even know about him.

Miryu, although only nineteen, was well-read and well-educated. She knew her global terrorists, and she knew that this one was the most notorious of them all. "Vladimir Makarov," she replied. "Oka-san, why would you have his picture?" This did not make sense at all. "Wasn't he the one who you and Daddy brought down?"

"He is," she told her daughter, pressing the picture of Makarov into her hands. "But he loved you, even before you were born… He loved you so much, that he was willing to give up his bloodlust and his freedom, so that you would be able to grow up in a world of peace, and hope."

* * *

"_I will keep the child," Ryuka told the two men around her before turning to Makarov. "You might be a highly murderous monster, but it is innocent. My only regret is that you can never be present when he or she is growing up..." She knew that Makarov would certainly vanish into thin air when his seven days were up. A man like him would never allow himself to be incarcerated, not for long anyways. He would be better off dying in the battlefield than dying in a prison, because of the enemies that he had made throughout his years in the field of terror and organized crime, and because he, like her, valued his freedom too much. Imprisonment would be a fate worse than death to him. _

_Makarov knelt before her and took her hands in his, with Soap's permission, of course, and said, "I would give everything to right the wrongs that I have done to you, darling." Her dark eyes looked into his strangely-hued eyes, not knowing what he had meant. Slowly, he placed one hand on her womb. "Our child would be a girl, a fiery, beautiful girl like her mother," he said, "I am sure of it."_

"_What are you playing at, Makarov?" Soap demanded. This man was a threat, not because of what he was capable of, because no one could ever understand his train of thought. It was so damned hard to anticipate his movements, which was probably one of the reasons why their struggle had been dragged so far, that Ryuka was now forced to carry his child. _

"_For my daughter, Captain Mactavish, I will surrender myself to the United Nations Security Council," Makarov replied, rising from the ground. "I want her to grow up in a world of peace and hope, not a world of chaos in which I have created. Once they have me, the United States of America and Mother Russia would stop fighting, and unite to call for my blood. If that is what I can do to ensure that she grows up without needing to know the taste of war as we all have, then so be it." _

_Soap nodded, and said, "I will take care of Ryuka and her child." He was a man of few words, but Makarov knew that he was a man of his word. Ryuka could not have chosen the wrong man to love. __He loved her as well, the Russian could tell that just from the way he had looked at her, and by the willingness of him to raise his child as his own, there could be mo mistake. __"I have already contacted Agent Algren, and she would be coming shortly with a fully armed convoy."_

"_Makarov…" Ryuka called as he walked towards the exit of the office, where her sister was already waiting for him. He turned towards her and smiled. "Thank you," she said, with Soap's arm around her shoulders._

"_I love you," he replied, and continued walking towards the exit of the hospital. He knew that if he did not walk away from her now, he would never be able to.

* * *

_

"My father, is Vladimir Makarov?" Miryu asked in disbelief. All her life, she had thought that her birth father had been a soldier that her mother had loved, which had died in the previous war, and Soap was the one who she had found later in life… "You told me that he was a patriot that loved his country!"

Ryuka smiled, and hugged her daughter. "He is," she answered. "He loved his country so much that he was willing to commit the greatest of crimes in her name. You must understand, Miryu, that he was born in Soviet Russia, when they had resisted the West with all their might, and when the Soviet Union fell, every single one of his militaristic conquests had been denounced as abuses as human rights. The government had used him as a scapegoat, and from then on, he had been warped by anger and the desire for revenge, which he saw for himself as service to his country."

"How could you ever love a man like him?" Miryu asked Ryuka again, "He killed so many people…" The conquest of Vladimir Makarov had been the pride and joy of the Task Force 141. She knew the story. The American Joseph Allen had been sent as an undercover agent to assassinate Makarov, but had been discovered. Then, her father, her birth father, used the American to massacre thousands of lives at the Zakhaev International Airport, and which immediately started the Russo-American war. But the world did not know that it was an American General that had told Makarov about Allen, using the Russian as a tool to spark a war that would unite the people of the United States of America., the same General that had betrayed the Task Force 141 and killed most of its founding members.

"I could never love him," was the answer. "If I could, we would be next to him, plotting how to get rid of dissidents disrupting our new world order." How could her mother be sarcastic about something as serious as this? "Nevertheless, it does not change the fact that I know he loves me, but he loves you even more." Miryu still did not understand. "Child, for me, he would buy a five million Euro Hearts and Arrows diamond, but for you, he would surrender himself to the United Nations Security Council. This is how much he loves you."

* * *

"_What?" Price was oblivious when Ryuka was in labour. "Why the hell is that Muppet here?" Makarov had just been sentenced by the Security Council to a lifetime of prison in Guantanamo Bay, which had been reactivated to house him, far from other prisoners, yet, large enough for him to retain his lavish lifestyle, but now, he was right there, a free man, with only two guards behind him._

_Ryurei was the one who answered the question. "Remember that the Security Council granted him a week of freedom as one of the terms of his surrender, technically, only three days were used. This day would be the forth, and there would be three more days."_

_And there he remained, on one of the chairs, quietly staring at the doors, as he heard Ryuka scream. There was no doubt that Mactavish was right in there with her, while Ryuka began cursing his name in Japanese, English, Chinese, French and Spanish… She was a woman of the military, after all…_

_Hours later, the cries of a newborn child could be heard, and the doors were opened to admit Price and Ryuka's family. Only he stayed there, knowing that he would never be welcome, no matter what he had felt about her. It did not matter, as long as mother and child were safe. _

"_Hey, you there," Mr. Algren said, emerging from the doors. This man, he was not one to be trifled with. Anyone who had followed the proceedings of the first Iraq War knew that he had been among those who had secured victory in the name of the United States, and had been promoted to be the Commandant of the United States Marine Corps for a time. "Aren't you taking a look at your own daughter?"_

_A girl? It seemed that he was right. Ryuka did indeed give birth to a girl. He nodded and went into the room, seeing only Ryuka and their daughter. Both of them had red hair the color of fire, but his daughter, his little girl had eyes just like him, albeit one of her eyes had been something akin to hazel, while the other was green like his. Ryuka was smiling as he entered through the curtains. _

"_Miryu," the tired mother proclaimed, passing him their baby girl, wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket. "Her name is Miryu, and until she is able to choose her own destiny, she will have no last name." _

_Makarov looked at his newborn daughter and cradled her gently. "So, little one, you are Miryu," he cooed to the already sleeping baby. "My beautiful, beautiful Miryu." She was so tiny to his eyes, was it even possible that anything could be born so small?  
_

_Hence, it had been decided that Makarov would use his remaining three days of freedom to spend with his daughter, whenever she was willing to spend it with him. Meanwhile, Ryuka and Miryu were the only two people authorized to visit Makarov at any time they wished.

* * *

_

"You have already decided the path that you would take, Miryu-chan," Ryuka told her daughter. Ever since a young age, Miryu had made it clear that she would not pursue a military career like her mother and father, er, two fathers. She was already enrolled in Columbia University studying International Trade, and was already a sophomore with brilliant academic results. "If you wish, I can arrange you to meet with Makarov."

Miryu's eyes widened. "Really?" she asked her mother, who nodded with a smile. "I can?"

* * *

Vladimir Makarov was no longer the prodigious, young terrorist he had been. He knew it. Now already a middle-aged man, there already were greying flecks in his dark, black hair. However, that did not stop him from living as he had done so, even before his incarceration. Athletic, cultured, and educated, he never left himself idle, and was constantly doing anything he could to keep his own mind busy.

"You have a visitor," one of his jailers told him just as he had started on one of the many books that had been shipped from his own private collection. A visitor? Who would come to visit him? Ryuka had just left but a few weeks ago, and she could only bring herself to visit him once a year… Unless… There could be only one person other than Ryuka…

When the door opened, a young girl came into view. A young girl with the red hair and eyes just like his…

"Miryu…" he murmured her name, and the first time that he had ever said that name before her. It was produced a strange taste to his name, and the more he looked at her, the more he was sure that she was his daughter…

"Otou-san?"

Makarov knew that to be the Japanese word for "Father".

* * *

HAN: So, how did you like the ending? I know that this story started out as a oneshot focusing on Soap and Ryuka, but it would be a total waste if it was not developed properly. Tell me everything that you love or hate about this fic, and perhaps if you would like dear old Soap to take on more of the spotlight, I shall change the ending a bit, or perhaps provide some alternative chapters. Well, what are you waiting for? Just hit the review button already, and thanks for reading and reviewing!


	10. Oneshot: Daydreams RATED M

Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp… In the old days, this had been a prison that held the world's worst terrorists that had been brought to justice by the US. Military, and in her younger days, Ryuka had always imagined it to be a hard, terrible place from whence there had been no return. Who ever knew that she was going there, on her own volition?

Now, it only held one prisoner, one deemed so dangerous that his jailors were constantly-rotating NATO soldiers. At any given time, the facility would be guarded by five tanks, ten Big Birds, and a 100-man squad, fully armed and dangerous, just to house on prisoner. Only two people living on the entire planet had been given clearance to visit him. One of them was a toddler just over a year old, and the other, the child's mother: Major Ryuka Algren of the Japanese army, the youngest and only female field commander of the newly-reorganized Task Force 141, which operated under the United Nations now.

"I thought that you could never hate me enough?" the prisoner said to his visitor, a smile gracing his features after the security protocols have all been properly followed. They were now in the lavish living room, filled with ornate furniture that resembled those that belonged to the Tsars of ancient Russia. Slowly, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing the ridge of her knuckles. He had not seen her for a year, and still, she was so beautiful, perhaps even more. "What could have possessed you to come here, of all places?"

Ryuka chuckled, and handed him a photo album. "I may not be able to bring Miryu here with me now, but I brought some pictures of her for you to see," she replied, plopping herself on when of the couches nearest to her. "You are her father, Makarov." As much she wanted to deny it, Ryuka knew that it was utterly pointless to do so. Her daughter had been the key to Makarov's willing incarceration, and in a way, it was Miryu that actually forced Makarov into willingly surrendering himself to the United Nations. For that, she would love the child with all her heart, and to do that, she had to accept the fact that the man next to her, twenty years her senior, the world's most hated former terrorist, was Miryu's biological father.

Makarov looked at the pictures of his daughter, taken from the very day she was born. It seemed that there was not a time and place when Miryu would not be surrounded by people, and a camera for that matter. Most of them depicted her and her alone, but there were a few of them where she would be with her mother and adoptive father, the two of them looking as if they had just jumped out of a fairytale. "She's just as beautiful as you are," he told her, hoping like the last times he complimented her, she would shoot him looks that threatened to kill him. Those black eyes seemed to contain a fire that could never be quenched, and they still do.

"No, she's just like you," came Ryuka's reply. "She is impatient, and would throw fits at anyone who delayed in doing anything for her." In the battlefield, she would never, ever speak to him in such a manner, it was only in Geneva, when she had revealed her true self to him, and it was then when he realized just how young she was. Although by no means a mere girl, and still in her twenties, Ryuka could be what others considered to be prodigy, along with her lover, Captain Mactavish, who was only a few years older than she was. How could he ever even consider pursuing a woman young enough that he could have been her father? Yet, as she showed him picture after picture, he was reminded again why he had been so enraptured by her. Her strength, her fire, came from the ones she loved, and was for the ones she loved. Too bad that he would never be a part of that.

Soon, even the last photograph had been seen, and the uncomfortable silence between them began. There was no use for small talk, the two of them had so many contrasting ideologies that they could talk until the sun fell down, and they would be still at it, they had tried to do so, one day in Geneva. He was taking a risk, a great risk by inching so closely to her, knowing that if she would just scream, there would be 100 armed soldiers rushing towards him. Ryuka had deceived him once, and he was sure as hell never to trust her with such matters ever again. However, as he inched closer towards her, he felt her doing the same as well, her eyes fluttering close as his lips merely touched hers in a chaste kiss.

"Do you know that hating a person is more painful than loving another?" she asked him, placing her hand on his cheek when their eyes met. Now that he was behind bars, now that his crimes had been atoned for, she had no reason to continue hating him, nor could she ever blame herself for being unable to kill him. With Makarov, things were so complicated... Did she hate him, or did she love him? What was she to him, a prize of war, or an equal? How could she face her fallen comrades when it was her time to die? Was she doing this out of gratitude for him? These question flooded her mind, every single moment she was with him, even now. "I decided that you are not worth the time or hearbreak."

With those words, she kissed him fully, feeling his arms wrap around her body as he returned the favor. "Ryuka..." he murmured into her neck, quickly unzipping the zipper of the corset on her catsuit, flinging it onto the floor. Barely a year after she had given birth, Makarov was amazed at how she even managed to maintain her flawless figure. She had been just as stunning as the day he had taken her from Dushanbe, and there was no mistake at that. Next, was the catsuit itself, which he carefully peeled from each side of her shoulders to reveal more naked skin on her body. Carefully laying her down on the couch, Makarov laved his tongue over the valley of her cleavage while he continued to remove her catsuit, caressing every single inch of her being revealed to him.

She too, was not to be underestimated. Raising her head for a kiss that he quickly obliged to her, she made short work of his suit, all of their clothes landing onto the same pile on the floor, clinging to his body as if there had been no tomorrow, their tongues caught in a dance between their mouths so heated that it threatened to burn them alive. Soon, her long, white fingers found his, clasping their hands together. "Do you burn like this when you are with him?" he asked her, whispering huskily into her ear.

"A lady does not kiss and tell," Ryuka replied, gently kissing his brow. Men, they were always so predictably jealous. However, she was lucky that Soap had a hugely open mind when their relationships with others was concerned. He too, had seduced many a woman in his time, throughout the course of their courtship. If anything, he found it very complimentary when another man is known to fall for her, which, to his eyes, meant that he had great taste, as he had so jokingly put it. "Something does make me wonder though, you are known to never repeat the same mistake, but now... look at us."

Capturing her lips with his in another passionate kiss, Makarov answeed, "I had told you before that you would be my downfall, darling. Every single moment when you are close, I cannot help but to think how much of a young schoolboy you make me feel..." He said those words, and brought his hand around one of her full breasts, cupping it ever so softly. Those words, almost an eternity ago, made her cringe, but now, they served another purpose. It emboldened her, and she gave him a smile that he would so willingly give up everything he had all over again just to see it. "Only you can make me feel this way..."

"You never really learn, do you not?" Ryuka teased, flipping him below her, and before he was about to ask her of her intentions, she rained a trail of kisses down his broad chest, washboard abdomen, and then to his manhood, which was already throbbing with need. Without saying a word more, she started to lick his shaft, slowly, at first, gradually picking up speed, literally flinging him onto Heaven itself. Feeling him grasp at her long hair tightly, moaning as she gave him pleasure, Ryuka started to envelope his length in her mouth, sucking him until he was on the brink of ecstasy, crying out her name as his world came crashing down.

* * *

"Oi, ahou?"

Makarov was interrupted by a familiar voice, a voice that he was sure he had heard just a few seconds ago. There was Ryuka, in her customary leather catsuit with the Kevlar corset specially designed for her. Quickly gathering his thoughts, he walked towards her as his jailers quickly disarmed her. "Did you just call me a moron, darling?" he asked her as he kissed her hand in greeting.

"Why, yes I did," Ryuka answered. "I did not know that you could even hear me." Smiling, she gave him a rather sisterly hug, leaving him hoping for something more. But considering the fact that she tried to hack off his limbs with her katana the first time they had met, it had been a great improvement for him."Perhaps I should try calling you a moron in Greek?"

Winding his arms around her waist, he looked at her and said, "Darling, I would hear you whenever you call for me. And besides, if you learned another language, you would be a professional linguist, and not a soldier." Ryuka rolled her eyes at his words, just like old times. "Now tell me, what brings you here, I thought that you could never hate me enough?"

At those words, she replied, "You're not the only one, Makarov." Of course, her words were never meant to offend him, they were the truth, and he knew it well. "But, you are Miryu's father, and I cannot forever distance her from you, so why I should keep myself from seeing you from time to time?" Her black eyes then trailed to the little package she had put down on the side table. Handing him the package, she smiled as he hastily removed the wrappings, revealing it to be a photograph album, filled with pictures of their daughter, from the day she was born, to her first birthday party not a few weeks ago.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking her hands in his, and Ryuka duly nodded her head. She knew how much he loved Miryu, even if he was not able to be there with her. Their daughter might never even know that in all technicality, it was she that stopped the Russo-American war in the first day, he knew that one day, he would meet his Miryu, and tell her how much he loved her, but for now, her mother would have to suffice. He pulled her into his arms before she could say anything, and began to kiss her as greedily as he had done in Shanghai, and Geneva.

Well, someone had to prove that daydreams do come true, right?


	11. Oneshot: First Kiss

"Gentlemen," Shepherd said to the men in the briefing room. They were in a US military base, working for with some other NATO soldiers on a routine mission in the Middle East when Shepherd called them in for a major briefing. Usually, in these situations, it meant that they would have a new FNG. It was barely a full year since the Task Force 141 was formed, but the influx of newbies were little and far between. Usually, not many of them could make it as well, given the sheer nature of their missions. "You have a new team member from the Japanese Special Forces unit."

Soon enough, the files of the newcomer was displayed on a projector behind Shepherd, bringing shock to almost all of them, just with one look at the photograph on the top right corner of the screen. Long, red hair, black eyes, high cheekbones… "She's a girl!" one of them announced, causing Shepherd to rub his temples. "How can a girl get into the 141?"

Soap looked at the reports of her successes and was pretty damned amazed. "Seems like the Emperor of Japan likes her," he said, "Since she's on the honor roll…" Quickly, as he glanced through more of the details in her file, he began to notice something. For one thing, she was awfully young to be a soldier…

"Lieutenant Ryuka Algren graduated from an elite military program designed by the Japanese government and the UN," Shepherd explained. "She was the top of her class, emerging with a degree in military organization and history from King's College, and as some of you Americans would know, the youngest daughter of the Algrens." The Algrens had been a powerful military dynasty that was said to have come from Japan in the 1800s, almost every single one of them served in the American armed forces, and almost every single one who did, had illustrious military careers, without any help at all from their relatives. "You can come in now, Lieutenant." Shepherd said towards the door, and it clicked.

Soldier or not, this woman was ultimately beautiful. The room was instantly quiet from the moment she went in, and somehow, Soap managed to catch her gaze, sensing only fire and lightning from that brief moment of eye contact. "Lieutenant Ryuka Algren reporting for duty, sirs!" she proclaimed with a standard salute towards both Shepherd and Soap. Someone must have done their homework, to know that Soap was second in command next to Shepherd in the Task Force 141.

"At ease," Shepherd said, laying a hand on her shoulders before turning towards the men. "Make sure that you get acquainted with her before your next mission, gentlemen. She's highly useful for gathering valuable information, and specializes in covert, deep cover ops, as well as sniper and personnel protection." Having said thus, he left, leaving Ryuka with her new team mates.

"Well, Lieutenant, do you have a call sign, or do we have to give you one?" Soap asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. That woman had been giving him the strangest looks ever since she had entered the room, and it strangely unnerved him that he did not want her to look away.

Chuckling, Ryuka replied, "It's Reddie, short for Red Dragon." It was obvious, why though. She had red hair, and she was from Japan; A no brainer, really. However, there was just something… "Hello boys," she said to the rest of them, waving to them with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Reddie," Ghost said, shaking her hand. "I'm Simon Riley, but you can call me 'Ghost'". It was from Ghost that she learned that apart from Soap, most of them used their call signs for one another. A strange custom, and one that she had to adapt to. However, it did a pretty good job that her last name would not be a huge factor in her dealings with others. When one had a surname like Algren in the military, one would almost be expected to be the perfect soldier…

One by one, the rest of the Task Force 141 introduced themselves to Ryuka before she was led back to Shepherd for a debrief on her previous mission. "That girl's really something, isn't she?" Scarecrow asked, nudging Soap with his elbow. "Anyone wanna know if she's single?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Ghost said, gesturing at the door. "Someone has to ask her."

"There is no need," Ryuka replied, coming through the door. "Sorry for overhearing your conversation, but you left the door ajar." The way she talked was just so strange; it was as if she had came out from a storybook with knights, wizards and dragons… However, it was the very lack of the usage of simple contractions that made her, well, different, other than the fact that she would be the only active female in the field. "The Japanese army is filled with so many sexist bigots that I thought that you boys would be a breath of fresh air compared to them."

Ah, that would mean that she was single, Soap thought. "Don't worry," he told her, "We're all different here in our own ways." Somehow, he managed to make her chuckle, and he swore that it was the best sound that he had ever heard. Her dark, black eyes seemed to light up with a strange light that very moment, and Soap found himself literally lost in those pitch-hued windows to her soul.

"Thank you, Captain," she replied with a smile. "I would hold you to your word."

* * *

The next morning, Soap woke up at sunrise for his routine workout session, when he saw Ryuka in the middle of the base with what seemed to be a Japanese katana, going through a serious of attacks and techniques that he had never even seen before.

"Good morning, Captain," Ryuka chirped at him as he walked towards her. "Come to ask why the hell am I using a katana when we are in the age of guns, have you not?" Whoa, now, she really caught him off guard. However, she seemed to take a hint that he was truly surprised, and gave a slight sigh. "I'm sorry, I should have not defended myself for a non-issue. I may have a Western last name, but my family is Japanese to the core. Our ancestors were samurai, and we were trained in the same style of combat that they had learned. The katana, to us, are not only our heirlooms, but are highly functional weapons. All of us have to complete the style before we are even taught to use modern weapons."

Soap seemed to be listening to her, but he was focused on those luscious lips, wondering how she would taste to him. To be completely honest, he had never felt this way around women, only her, and it was less than 24 hours that he had known her. Soon, he was so dangerously close to her that he could almost smell her scent, reminding him of fresh oranges, and a hint of sandalwood.

Thus, he did the only thing conceivable. Entangling his fingers in her long, red hair, he pulled her towards him and kissed her fully on the lips, giving her little time to even yelp in her own defense. As the seconds passed, she could feel nothing but him, the strong Captain with that Mohawk, and his nigh-hulking build around her. Moaning into the kiss, she allowed his tongue access to explore her mouth; her katana remained forgotten, dropped beside her as suddenly as he had kissed her, while she quickly fought for dominance, leading to a fiery exchange that would quickly leave them out of breath. "Captain," she murmured, gently bringing her hands to his broad chest.

Soap took this as a sign that she did not wish to continue any more, and pulled away willingly. "I'm sorry," he apologized. She did not reply, but placed her finger on his lips. He could give her one thing, though. She was rather tall for a woman, reaching his eyebrows in her full height.

"It takes two, Captain," she replied, a smile forming on her lips that had almost been bruised by his. She turned away from him and sheathed her katana before moving back into the barracks, leaving Soap standing there in a daze. From that moment on, he knew that he would never, ever live a moment in sanity unless he knew that he would be the one to taste those lips again and again.

Unbeknownst to the Captain and the new Lieutenant, four others were watching them from the last shadows of the morning sun. Ozone, Ghost, Archer and Scarecrow saw the entire thing. "Well that's it. She's only just came here and the Captain beat us to wooin' her," Ghost grumbled.

Scarecrow, on the other hand, had a more realistic approach. "Heh, she's outta our league anyways, man," he said, "Anyways, Mactavish could not take his eyes off her since the very second she came in."

Well, that was kind of true as well. "So, will they, by any chance, kill us if this got out?"

At those words, the four of them suddenly were silenced by a gunshot through the window that they had been leaning onto. "Ooops, sorry," Ryuka's voice went through the broken glass. "I thought I saw the ghost of Saddam Hussien."

Hence, it went through the Task Force 141, from the day that Lieutenant Ryuka Algren came into the unit, until the day that Captain Price had been saved from the Gulag, not a word was to be said about what they had just seen, not even to the new FNGs that would come, although it could be easily guessed.


	12. Oneshot: Reasons

"Forgive me…"

"I'm sorry…"

Those words had been the only words that Ryuka had ever said to John "Soap" Mactavish ever since they had been reunited in Shanghai. There were no more things that she could say to him, nothing more than those words remained in her head. She was carrying the child of one of their greatest enemies, the man who had caused so many deaths all around the world, and so much more close to home…

The warmth of his hands surrounds hers, one arm held around her shoulders… How could he still love her, even when she had been tainted by the enemy, and that her child was not his? How could he love the woman who could not kill the man that she had sworn to kill, at whatever the cost? How could she have been so weak, so weak that she could even believe that monster's lies?

Slowly, she buried her head in her hands, only to find him envelope her entire form. "John…" she murmured his name, even if she knew that she was no longer worthy to do so. She had let the entire Task Force 141 down, and she dared to even proclaim that she would keep the child… "Captain, if you so wish it, I shall do what is necessary to protect the honor of the 141…"

Soap put a finger to her lips, hushing her mid-sentence. "There are only you and Price left besides me, Ryuka, we can't lose another one of our own," he told her. Loss, pain, death, emptiness, these were feelings that soldiers had to deal with, from the very first day they had been deployed onto the battlefield. Their brothers knew of the risk of death with ever y single mission, and they knew the price they had to pay to ensure victory. He knew that Ryuka had willingly accepted Makarov's seduction, but he also knew that it was only because she had been threatened with his life and Price's. He knew, that she had done so only because she wanted to preserve their lives, even if Makarov had used her desperation and her love for him against her. She had done what she had to, to the best of her abilities…

He took her hand and placed it on her abdomen. "This child is yours," he told her. Shepherd was right. He had been a good warrior, but he would never be able to take that extra step to do what was necessary. Unlike him, Ryuka had gambled with everything that she knew and loved in the hope that Makarov's weakness would be his empty heart, and it was she and the child in her womb that had brought them total victory… "And I love you, that's all that matters, Reddie."

A tear immediately fell from her black eyes, a tear that he wiped away with his finger before it even had the chance to fall down her cheek. What had she done in life to deserve such a man? Did he even know that there had been moments when she almost took Makarov's hand when he had offered it to her? "How can you love one like I?" she asked him, in her archaic form of speech, placing her hand on the side of his face, feeling the prickle of his stubble. It ached her heart to hear those words, so much so that she could look into his eyes of blue no longer.

There was really no why, no reason at all. Soap loved her, because he could not bear to be parted from her laughter, her fiery gaze, and her soft lips, but more importantly, he loved her because she brought him a slice of peace whenever she was near him. When he was with her, his mind was only filled with her, no longer the amount of blood that he had spilt, no longer of their comrades that should have been there with them. If anything, he would be the one who should have taken the blame of stationing her in Dushanbe, when he knew that she would rather die fighting than stay at the safest conceivable haven to wait for them to return. If only he knew that the orphanage that he had personally assigned her to had been owned by Makarov…

Soap kissed her fully on the lips, and she too, bared her very soul before him. He could not forgive her, because there was really nothing to forgive. She had sacrificed everything for him, and what she had in return was the curse of being pregnant with Makarov's child… No one should receive such a fate, especially when they had done so much service to the world. Just to put Joseph Allen into Makarov's side, Ryuka herself killed a hundred men while undercover, all of them tortured and drugged until they revealed the needed information to her. The experience had been so harrowing that she should not have been called back into the field again... And yet, in the end, it was she who managed to cause Makarov to walk willingly into the NATO convoy that would bring him to face the United Nations Security Council.

He let her cry into his chest, knowing that it was the only way that she would feel better. He knew that there was nothing more that he could do, other than to be by her side, to love her, and to prepare to be the child's father. He was a fool because of the very last part of the previous sentence, but he did not care. She was right; the child was innocent, even if it was Makarov's, even if his or her coming had not been expected; it still deserved to live, to be raised with love in its heart.

When he knew that she could no longer cry, he tipped her chin, ensuring that he could see her black eyes, now red and puffy from all that tears that she had shed. Slowly, he kissed away every single droplet of her tears that still remained, and her lips back again, pulling her as close to him as he could, reassuring her that he would be with her, every step of the way. She was safe with him, and that was what he wanted her to know, and that was what she had always known.

"This child is_ ours..._" Ryuka told him, and he nodded before kissing her once again.

* * *

HAN: As you all may have known, I received a review from a frustrated reader that could not accept why Soap had been so calm about the fact that Ryuka had been sleeping with Makarov, even getting pregnant with his child. Well, it cannot be helped, because I envisioned this fic to give more humanity to Makarov, and to provide a what-if to the storyline to MW2 in that what would happen if Makarov and Soap fell for the same woman. I hope that this short little one shot could give you more insight into Soap's thoughts about the issue from my point of view. I hope that this would clear things up further. Please tell me more about how you feel about this fic and the subsequent oneshots, so I can do what I can to improve it. Thank you!


	13. Oneshot: Mission

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Pyongyang, North Korea.

* * *

"We're in position," Ryuka reported through her microphone once her feet touched the grassy ground on the North Korean general's courtyard. Quickly, she armed herself with her M4A1 Grenadier, as well as an ACR with ACOG sights before throwing off her black, matte parachute. Not far from her were Ghost and Roach, the newcomer, better known as the FNG for the time being.

"Got you Lima Charlie, Reddie," Soap replied from the rooftop on the west wing of the mansion. "Remember, the signal in the room could be a decoy, you need to open your eyes." They had been deployed in Pyongyang to retrieve one of the general's mistresses, who had exchanged information regarding nuke talks with the Russian Ultranationalists for US citizenship and a very generous pension. Unfortunately, the woman had been discovered, and would be executed that very night.

He could hear a slight chuckle on her part, and knew that she was rolling her eyes. Ryuka was a born soldier, and a highly capable warrior, she could be wholly depended upon to get the job done, no matter what the mission. However, he could sense that she was slight miffed on the fact that he took on the role as designated sniper, and not her. "Moving in to breach the door," Ghost said. But before he was able to plant a charge, Ryuka stopped him and pulled out a pin from her hair. "Eh, Reddie, what the hell are you doing?"

"Picking the lock," she replied. They could not risk anyone to find out that they were there, or the mistress and they would be done for. Within seconds, they found themselves in the main kitchen, which was pretty deserted for the time of the night. "Kitchen clear," she said, sweeping every corner with her M4A1, while Ghost and Roach did pretty much the same. There would be a hallway from towards the left of the kitchen, which seems rather deserted as well. "Strange, this place is pretty quiet for a general's mansion..."

And just as she said those words, they were met with about twenty fully armed North Korean soldiers in the adjacent hallway, raining hundreds of bullets upon them. "God damn it!" Roach cursed as they ducked behind a wall. "Reddie, you just had to jinx us!" Not the wisest choice of words, but Ryuka let it slide this time.

"Less talk, more shooting!" Ghost said to Roach before leaping out of cover when the rain of bullets ended. Those soldiers never even knew what hit them, faced before the elite soldiers of the world. Ryuka even did not bother to use her guns, and opted for her katana, hacking leg after arm after calf, followed by a bit of neck and straight thrusts into the thoracic cavity. It was a risky move, but it did the job well, a little too well in fact.

"Wow..." was the only thing that Roach managed to utter. He had seen Ryuka cut down practice dummy after practice dummy, but he had never really saw her fight with her katana before, even if the tangos had been fully armed. Ryuka smiled sheepishly as she wiped her katana on the luxurious velvet curtain and sheathed it. If this was how Ryuka worked when she was perfectly calm, it was downright disturbing to even imagine what she could do if she was in a stead of angered bloodlust... Well, perhaps it was not the best idea to even add that idea into his head.

* * *

Door after door, hallway after hallway, an ambush or two, later, they could not find anything. As they had already predicted, the signal in the room was a decoy... "Anyone speak Korean?" Ghost asked, looking at the girl tied up in place of the mistress while gently removing the piece of duct tape that covered her mouth.

"There won't be a need to," Ryuka replied. They may faced with a decoy, but everything happened for a reason. "You must speak English," she told the woman, who was more or less the same age she was. "Tell me, what plans does your Master have besides killing his mistress?"

The woman spat upon Ryuka's Kevlar corset and said, "I do not have to speak with Western Dogs as you." Apparently, she saw Ryuka's American flag-patch before her Japanese one, well, you can't have everything. They had no time to waste, and they knew that the woman right before them would not divulge anything without proper methods of persuasion. Nodding towards Ghost, with his dark shades and skull-motif balaclava, he would be a rather intimidating figure...

"Lady, you're gonna tell us where the other mistress is, or you're gonna be killed like she is," Ghost threatened, unsheathing Ryuka's katana. "I don't think that we have the privilege of a firing squad, though..."

Immediately, the woman blurted out, "There is a secret chamber behind the mirror... It leads to the general's main base!"

Really? A secret chamber? Could the North Koreans be any more original? However, it was ultimately evident that the woman was still lying. Roach duly went to check the mirror, and the moment he moved it slightly, more bullets flew towards him. "What the heck!" he shouted, shutting the concealed entrance immediately and barring it with the vanity with Ghost's help.

"Come on, we do not have all day," Ryuka said, actually thrusting her katana into the other woman's thigh, ignoring her howls of pain. Every second they had wasted there, was a second the mistress could not afford to lose. It was not really quite an example of sticking to the Geneva Conventions, but they were the Task Force 141, literally exempted from almost every military protocol apart from their own. "Shall I do it again on the other side, or shall you tell us what we want to know?" Having no more patience for defiance, the woman's other thigh was stabbed as well.

"In the empty garage..." the woman pleaded... "Please, no more!"

"Mactavish, you heard the woman, we need to know where the heck the garage is!" Ryuka said to Soap, while she followed Ghost and Roach out of the mansion through the system of hallways and stairs. Good gods, that bloody place was a freaking maze! Soap had the schematics of the entire complex, including the military base nearby, and would take only a few moments to work out where they were supposed to go.

Quickly making his way from the rooftop towards the ground, Soap said, "It's about four hundred meters south of your position, see you halfway there!"

* * *

The General was not pleased at all. First, his former favorite betrayed him, and sold information regarding his comings and goings to the Americans, and now, the Ultranationalist that he was dealing with was breathing down his neck even as he was going to execute the damned woman.

"This woman will burn in hell, I promise you," he said to the Russian, who still refused to give him his name. "And we'll be long gone before she is really dead."

"And how would you even try to execute the wrench?"

With a snap of his fingers, the general's soldiers quickly doused the woman with petrol, while he waved his cigar in his hand. That was a really inhumane way to die, but it would provide them with enough time to make a clean getaway. However, it seemed that they were fated to the thwarted by their enemies...

The garage doors were blasted into bits, revealing at least four people that stormed into the space with NATO weapons, one of them, was a woman in a leather cat suit... The Ultranationalist looked at her, and regarded her for the longest time in his mind... That fiery red head of hair and those dark eyes... She was really something.

"Come, we have not come so long to be captured," the Russian said, and gestured violently for the general to follow him, while evading one of Ryuka's throwing daggers. "It is rare to see a woman fighting to valiantly, but we must wait for another time on the battlefield, my dear. I swear that we will meet again," he said to her just as she busied herself in untying the petrol-soaked woman from the chair she had been tied to.

Those eyes... His hetereochromic gaze was so strange, yet so strong to behold... But whoever he was, he was an Ultranationalist, and therefore, an enemy to be taken down sooner or later. "I'll look forward to it..." she replied, and the Russian left, leaving the rest of the Task Force 141 to deal with the general's men as they made their escape on a large helicopter.

"Let's get outta here!" Soap exclaimed as more soldiers filed in from where the general had escaped. By then, they would be outgunned and outmaneuvered if they did not think of anything fast... He should have known that from the way Ryuka threw him her weapons when his had run out of ammo and unsheathed her katana, getting into the stance that he had seen thousands of times before. "Reddie, you will not even try to do what I think you're gonna do!"

Not only did Ryuka did not respond to his order, she quickly dashed towards the group of soldiers directly in front of her, starting a series of successive attacks that left them severed into mere pieces of meat as compared to professional soldiers. "This is the quickest way to the LZ," she said, hurrying her comrades, not backing down from Soap's challenging blue gaze. "If you can find a better alternative, sir, I suggest you do it now."

They had close to a few hundred men closing in around them, being right in the middle of the general's main base... "We'll back you up," Soap told her, placing his hand on her shoulder. He never once doubted her, not once, and he was not about to start.

Thus, Ryuka kicked upon the doors and started to cut their way through, evading bullets with her nigh acrobatic skills, and lightning-quick reflexes, while Ghost, Roach and Soap supported her, with the mistress in tow. Their ride would be arriving in two minutes, in an inhumanely impossible destination away from them... "We're gettin' close!" Ghost said, looking at the helicopter with familiar markings descending from the skies.

"Bravo Six, we're close to bingo fuel here, get your asses out of there!"

"Copy that," Soap replied, and shouted towards Ryuka, handing her a fallen machete. "Here, you'll work just as fast." Taking the machete from the Captain, Ryuka nodded, and began to make progressed. Within twenty seconds, all of them managed to get into the helicopter, relatively unharmed...

* * *

"Now, this is a sight that you do not see every day," the Ultranationalist commented from below the plane. "A woman, fighting like wild fire in a world meant for men..." In truth, he could not forget that strange woman, everything about her fascinated him, as well as his promise that they would meet again...

Not a year later, he had discovered that the woman as part of an international Task Force, headed by the British SAS, the American CIA and Army Rangers, as well as other militaries... The woman, she had been a soldier deployed from the Japanese Special Forces, one so gifted that she was already a Lieutenant not long after she had joined the military.

He would come to learn more about her, but what he could never anticipate, was that one day, that she would be the one who bring upon his downfall...

* * *

"Reddie, I've seen Mactavish's reports on the mission in Pyongyang, and you've done extremely well," Shepherd told Ryuka. "And that is why I have a job that I will trust only with you... Do you know this man?" He showed her a picture, the very picture of the man who had promised her that he would meet her once again on the battlefield.

Frankly, Ryuka shook her head. "All I know that he is a rather powerful Ultranationalist," she replied, looking at the man... Yes, she would never, ever forget that man's face. One that told her of unwritten malice, hatred and anger.

"His name is Vladimir Makarov... "


	14. Oneshot: Choices

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Geneva, Switzerland.

* * *

Day II

* * *

It was the first morning with Makarov that Ryuka did not awake with him by her side, nor was he in the same room as her, and it relieved her. Waking up to the glint of .50 cal seen from the balcony opposite that of hers even relieved her more, because she knew that Soap and Price were near her, and would be with her if she would so need it... But who she was lying to? From the very moment she had decided she would seduce Makarov into his surrender, she already knew that it was an ultimately easy task...

_The man's twenty years older than you are, _chided a voice in her head, reminding her that he was in the right age range to be her father in all technicality. She remembered the very first time she had met him, not in Dushanbe, but in Pyongyang, when he had been meeting with a general that had planned to sell him a few nuclear bombs. His gaze had been one that haunted her for several long moments, and she remembered the chill that those blue and green eyes sent down her spine...

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked herself, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was no longer in her leather catsuit with the Kevlar corset, something that she almost constantly worn, opting out of the standard Task Force 141 gear which was too bulky and heavy to her taste; but she was dressed like some young model, courtesy of the Russian Ultranationalist terrorist who was waiting for her to get ready for the day...

She knew that she should hate Makarov to her very core, for what he had done, and perhaps, for what he would do. There would be a high possibility that he would run the very moment his seven days of freedom in Geneva were up. She was sure of it...

"Darling, are you ready?" Makarov asked, never tiring of the little pet name that he had come out for her, knowing how much she would cringe whenever heard him call her that. After two gentle knocks on her bedroom door, he opened it and found her standing before him, dressed in a black turtleneck, a red wool skirt, with black leggings tucked into knee-high heeled boots, a classic Burberry trench coat pulled around her warrior's form. "You look beautiful as ever," he whispered into her ear as he moved to kiss her on the forehead, compelling her to reach for her katana with full ferocity.

Just as the cold tamahagane-steel blade touched Makarov's neck, drawing but a drop of blood, Ryuka came to her senses. "Forgive me," she quickly apologized, placing a clean towel to the stop the bleeding. Why was she even apologizing to him? She should have killed him on sight! Casting her weapon onto the bed, she cast her eyes on the floor as she left her hand on the towel which was still covering his wound.

If anything, Makarov knew that she was now plunged into some form of crossroads in her life, to choose which path she should take. He could just see the dark fire of her eyes when she drew her katana to his neck, and he knew that he would forever remember that moment, although he had emerged on the losing end. "Should I blame it on your reflexes?" he asked her, remembering that she could even stab him in the calf when she had been shot.

"Perhaps," she replied, after failing to come up with a smart retort like she always did. When the bleeding stopped, she took her hand off his neck, and placed the towel along with the clothes to be sent to the laundry. "You are the one I am yet to kill after all." However, she knew what she had to do, and allowed Makarov to take her arm as they moved out of her room and their serviced apartment unit.

* * *

It was a beautiful winter morning, where they had breakfast in a high-rise restaurant overlooking the lake's shore, followed by a quiet stroll. Well, not so quiet, to be honest. From the very moment they started talking civilly, without each of them trying to seduce one another; they started to find out that they were highly passionate about their own beliefs. The two of them were born in completely different worlds, in completely different eras... it was so strange that they did not try to kill one another all over again, well, Ryuka more than Makarov, that is.

"Oh, how sweet," an elderly woman commented as she chanced upon the two of them, in one of the city's benches on the pedestrian walkway, arguing in a jumbled mix of various languages, another one of their shared talents. "You two must be so in love..."

In love? Ryuka widened her eyes, but the woman did not notice it. She was in love, but not with Vladimir Makarov, not the same man that had willingly agreed to allow Shepherd to plant an undercover agent next to him to start a war between Russia and America. This man was reeking with the stench of the innocent blood that he had forcibly shed... "Well, I do not know about her," Makarov answered in perfect French, placing his hand on hers, "But I do love her, grandmother."

Was it another one of Makarov's ploys? Whatever it was, Ryuka did not have time to even acknowledge that question in her head. She was blushing, so much that her cheeks were almost the same color as her hair. The old woman just smiled at them and slowly walked away, while Ryuka cursed under her breath that she would allow herself to be caught by his words. "Perhaps I should have really cut off your head this morning," she told him, when the old woman as out of earshot.

"Every word that I said is true," he told her, fixing his heterochromic eyes on her black ones. His tone of voice was serious, just as every bit serious as he had been when they had cornered him in Shanghai. "I have never met a woman as beautiful, intelligent and elegant as you are, darling," he replied, forcing her to look at him by gently moving her chin up with his finger and thumb. "Come with me, leave your old life behind, and I shall give you more power than you can ever imagine."

There, he finally revealed his intentions. By delaying his incarceration, he was already planning his escape. "How many times would you use me to cover your tracks?" she demanded bitterly. He had kidnapped her in Dushanbe and used her as a human shield in Shanghai... How could he ever claim to love her? He barely even knew her! "Please, do not hope to assume that you claim to love me when you don't know anything about me."

Still, Makarov was unwilling to let her eyes wander. "Oh, darling, I know," he told her. "You are born from a family of soldiers, and you know what power really is. It is the ability to move one nation against the other, the ability to take the hearts of a nation's people into new, staggering heights that you have never seen before..." When she was but a child, the United States triumphed over the Middle East in a succession of wars that shook the entire world following the 9/11 attacks in New York, she was only eleven then... Her entire family was mobilized, and she made each and every one of them idols in her little eyes. She had been convinced, that war was the only way where the oppressors of the weak would be forcibly defeated, when diplomacy had failed miserably... Just like Shepherd... The war with Russia had united the Americans...

"You are a prodigy, but you yearn for something more, a life of meaning," Makarov continued, however, Ryuka had already managed to look away from him. "A woman in the battlefield is a rarity, even now," he added, "Come with me, and your talents would not go to waste. By my side, you will never have to worry about bigotry any longer."

His words were more than just bewitching, they were downright terrifying. How was it possible that even in mere days he knew so much about her? "Makarov..." she murmured, hoping that he would stop, and stop he did. She did not know what to say, nor how to react... Within mere seconds, she could feel his lips pressing against hers, and this time, she was unarmed...

"Come with me," he told her again when the kiss broke, bringing his hand to her. "I will show you a life that you have always desired."

A life that she had always desired... A life where she could fight, and there would be no one to judge her, a life where she could no longer feel the pain of loss, a life where...

In the distance, on the other side of the road, Ryuka began to see familiar figures looking back towards her. A tall man in shades and a balaclava, a younger, slightly shorter one with streaks of bad luck and that goofy grin... Soon, more of them started to come together: Ghost, Roach, Archer, Scarecrow, Ozone, Meat and Royce... Almost all of her fallen brothers. "What should I choose?" she asked them silently, pleading that they would give her an answer, but they just looked on, with encouraging eyes...

The honking of a car brought her back into reality, like a jolt of electricity that awakened all her senses. "I can't," she told Makarov, standing up from the bench, and running towards the opposite direction, to wherever her feet would take her. She was weak, too weak, that she could even consider Makarov's words for a second... This man was soaked in the blood of the ones that she had cared for, she had already failed to kill him, how could she allow to herself to believe that he truly loved her?

"Reddie!" a familiar voice came to her, when she found herself in a park, and found that it was Soap. "You almost scared us to death!"

"John..."

Without any hesitation, Ryuka buried herself in Soap's arms, comforted by just his presence. She knew it well now that her destiny lay with the men that she was forced to choose between. Makarov, the charming, Russian terrorist who could give her everything she desired, and Soap, the man could not provide what Makarov could, but gave her the safety she so needed, despite her highly independent streak. "They wouldn't tell me anything," she told him in a low whisper. "Especially Ghost and Roach..."

Soap chuckled, and fisted her long, red hair. "They know that whatever you choose, you'll be happy," he told her, caressing her cheek when she looked up at him. He knew that it was her path to take, and neither he nor Makarov could ever sway her. If they could, then that was not the woman that they loved.

No, Ryuka knew that one choice would lead her to a path where there was no return from... it would be a lie, and heresy to what she had always been... The words: there would never be peace before war, was meant that peace had to be forcibly taken in an age of darkness, like what they were in now. Anything more than that, it would be selfish warfare... She knew it from the depths of her heart.

Saying nothing else, she kissed Soap fully, even as she saw Makarov standing behind them. If Soap could find her, then so would he, but she could not care less now. "Thank you," she told him, and left with the Russian after one last embrace, perhaps, just for the remainder of the day. It was merely noon, she knew that she had a long time more before her deal with Makarov was over, but at least, she could be sure to herself what she wanted, and what she needed.

At least, her choice was made.

* * *

HAN: The struggle of a woman's heart is never an easy one. So, if you were Ryuka, who would you choose? Me, I'll decide to have a Menage a trois with the BOTH of them, ahahahha ^.^


	15. Oneshot: Return

The dark room was filled with many devices, a handgun, and various lengths of ropes, car batteries, cables, and even more odds and ends. What stood out in the room had been a Japanese katana, a real, functioning katana, and the woman that stood in the room, right before the man tied onto the chair.

"Who are you working for?" she asked him in fluent Russian, knowing that the man was an Ultranationalist, masquerading as some common street thug who was pushing drugs and weapons. There had been no answer, the man's eyes refusing to look at his captor. She was a beautiful woman, but her methods had been downright cruel and sadistic… For the past two days, she had attached him to a car battery, shocking his very body, and yet, it was not enough to kill him… The pain was so unbearable that he begged for death in vain. "If you wish to die, you have to answer me this, who are you working for?"

The Ultranationalists had turned the tables in Russia, from being a terrorist group with a political front, they had taken over the Russian Government… But the party itself was split into two: one faction favored the President Vorshevsky, while the other, was loyal to one Vladimir Makarov, who was still an active terrorist himself, proclaiming himself the "Shadow of Zhakaev" She could remember his eyes, a year ago when she had first met him in Pyongyang… From that very moment, she knew that he would be a formidable enemy…

"I will tell you nothing…" came the reply from the weakened man. Electrocuted and battered, he was on the very verge of death, but only just so. The woman before him, she was nothing as she had seemed, more than just another exotic face.

"Very well, if you insist…" she said to him, and unsheathed her katana, cutting off the top joint of his index finger. The pained screams were so loud that she stopped a moment to wince at her own actions as well. This was not going to well… "What are you trying to protect?" she asked, "Your family, or the worth of a divided nation?" Still, there was no answer. Sighing, she jerked the man's head up and pleaded, "Please, you are not making this any easier for the both of us. I will grant you death, and you will tell me the name of the man that you will supply to Vladimir Makarov for his new mission."

Death, it would be a great reprieve from the hell he had been going through. "Alexei… Alexei Borodin…" he murmured.

"Alexei Borodin…" Ryuka replied, "And how would I know that you are speaking the truth?" The man said nothing more, before she could even kill him, he had commit suicide by biting off his own tongue, and she knew, that it took a great amount of courage… It seemed that she was in luck, because just as the man had breathed his last, there came a series of knocks on the door.

"Hey, it's me, Borodin!" the visitor exclaimed, "You told me to meet you if I wanted to meet Makarov!"

Ryuka did not need to open the door to shoot him, judging by the shadows that he had cast, she took aim with her silenced Intervention, and killed him then and there, the bullet of her powerful sniper rifle going through the wooden door, and the body of the young, ambitious Russian, right into the oak tree behind him.

"Shepherd, this is Red Dragon. I've got what you want, requesting immediate extraction."

* * *

Within eight hours, Ryuka was back in the submarine the 141 called their headquarters, the Dallas. "Good job, Algren," Shepherd praised, after she had debriefed him on everything that she had gained. For the past two weeks, she had been in the very heart of Russia, infiltrating the deepest and darkest Ultranationalist operations, drugging, torturing and killing up to a 100 men… However, it was only the tip of the iceberg… "You don't know how much progress we would have gained from this information."

"I hope that you get the right man to replace the real Borodin," Ryuka replied, her fiery voice tired from what she had seen and done. It was her way of telling him that she would not want missions of that kind any more, that she would lose her very mind if he did so.

"Oh, I will, Reddie," Shepherd replied. "That's why I'm pulling you off from the field until further notice. You need your rest, young lady."

God knows that she needs it, and after she saluted Shepherd, she quickly made her way back to her quarters, where she was quickly drawn into a man's arms the very moment she opened the door. "Welcome back," he whispered into her ear, encircling her slim waist with his powerful arms from behind her.

"Hello there, Captain," she greeted in return, goosebumps forming all over her skin as he started to kiss the arch of her neck. "You look well…" Turning to face him, she readied herself for the series of earth-shattering kisses that he would plant on her lips… There was nothing else to celebrate a mission, she mused to herself.

"Two weeks, Reddie," Soap said when their lips parted, almost unwillingly, out of the necessity to breathe. "Two weeks without a word, and Shepherd would not allow us to contact you. What the hell were you doing in Russia?"

His words caused her to chuckle. "Are you really concerned for me, John, or you're worried that there won't be anyone who would try to kick your ass in the firing range?" she teased him. "Why don't you wait for me in your room, I won't be long…" There was no lie about it, there was only one thing on his mind right now, but she had just returned from a mission, and wanted nothing more than a hot bath.

Slowly pulling away from her, Soap granted her wish. "Take as long as you need," he told her, kissing her forehead before he left, making her smile even more prominent, even as he teasingly cupped her derriere seconds before he stepped out of her door.

* * *

HAN: Cookies for anyone who can guess where this oneshot leads to in the original fic! ^.^


	16. Oneshot: Name

Miryu looked down on the stage as she was delivering the graduation speech for her year. There was her mother, Grand-Uncle Price, her maternal grandparents, Aunt Ryurei, and her fathers. Yes, her fathers, the both of them, with her mother seated between them, acting as guards for the day for Vladimir Makarov as well.

Of course, none of the members of the public were alerted that the former terrorist would be walking among them, they would have most likely forgotten all about him, and if anything, the likeness that they would remember of him would not be this elderly man who seemed to have aged very, very gracefully. There was nothing on Makarov that revealed him to be the heartless, blood-soaked terrorist he was once, only the look of a proud father.

Throughout the ceremony, Makarov only had eyes for his young daughter. The more he looked at her, the more he thought that she resembled her mother, from appearance, until the very way that she spoke... However, he could also notice that she had a commanding presence, one much alike that of Mactavish. Indeed, the Scottish man did no wrong turn in helping Ryuka to raise his precious daughter.

They had taken thousands of photographs together, as though what happened 21 years ago, had not happened. Miryu's favorite one, was one which Price had taken, of her, her mother and her two fathers, standing together, smiling from ear to ear...

"I know that I have yet to thank you, Mactavish," Makarov told Soap as they looked at mother and daughter, the two women that either one of them would stake more than their lives for. There was no need to say anything more, and even if the two of them had been enemies from afar, they had a common, mutual understanding between them. "You have given Ryuka and Miryu more than I ever could."

Soap stopped him mid-sentence. "Come on, how long does this have to drag on?" he asked the Russian. "Today is Miryu's day, and you're here for her. Whatever we had between us, is already gone." He never really had anything against the man anyways, other than the fact that his duties had demanded that he brought him into light.

"What are you talking about?" Miryu's chirpy voice popped between them, hugging both of them. "Aren't you two afraid that Oka-san would impale you with her katana?"

Both Soap and Makarov rolled their eyes and said, "Like that would be the first time," in perfect unison, causing the young woman to laugh non-stop. "You wanted to talk to us, lass?" Soap asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Yes, actually, there's somewhere I want to take Oka-san and the two of you to," was her reply, but no matter who asked her, she would not answer. From the very second Ryuka rejoined them, she quickly took off her gown and hat before ushering them into her car.

They had come to a quiet place in Central Park when she agreed to release them. "I have something to show you," she told them, rummaging the trunk of her car, successfully retrieving a few pieces of paper from a clear folder. "Here..."

She showed them papers from the National Registrar, from both Japan and America. "Miryu-chan, you changed your name?" Ryuka asked, hugging her daughter. "What possessed you to do that, you silly girl?"

Miryu smiled, and said, "Well, I have a mother and two fathers, and I don't want to go without a last name with the rest of my life..." Ever since she was a child, she had been told that she could only have a last name when she could decide her own destiny. Now that she had graduated with a degree in International Business, breaking almost a hundred and fifty years of tradition, and personally discovering a relationship with her biological father, she had already proven that she was able to choose her own path. "All three of you are equally important to me, and I want to thank you all..."

Makarov looked at his daughter, and hugged her as well. If his imprisonment had been the price to pay for that day, he would willingly do it all over again. Even if it was only for a day, to walk freely, being with the two women he loved, it would be worth every single day in Guantanamo Bay, and perhaps even more.

* * *

In the top left-hand corner of the piece of paper that she had shown her parents, were the words: Miryu Vladimirovna Algren-Mactavish.

* * *

HAN: I did a little research, and discovered that Russians used patronymics in their names, so, literally, the "Vladimirovna" in Miryu's name means Vladimir's Daughter (Well, you don't expect her to sport the last name, did you?). ^.^ Ain't that sweet? But I think here is where the Red Dragon series ends fully, ahahahahaha. I've totally nothing to write about Makarov, Soap and Ryuka any longer. But if you can come up with some suggestions of what you would like to see, I'll see what I can do. Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews and support!


	17. Oneshot: Reunion

She was nothing like he had ever seen before, and everything that he knew she would be. Every single year, when her mother would visit him, she would bring him a year's worth of photographs and videos, and he would spend almost every second conceivable looking at his daughter blossom into a beautiful young woman… But to see her before him, face to face, it was nothing that he had ever expected in this life.

"Otou-san?" she asked tentatively, finding the same heterochromic eyes when she looked at him. She knew this man, not from her parents and her Grand-Uncle Price, but from the various books, documentaries and archive files that she had encountered growing up, when she was trying to figure out the little dark spot of her origins… He was a "patriot that loved his country"; those were the words that her mother would always say whenever she asked who her father was. He was the one who loved his country so much that he would turn to terrorism, human and drug trafficking; almost every crime conceivable.

He nodded, and drew her into his arms. "Miryu," he murmured, calling her for the first time in nigh two decades. This child, she was what he had given up his freedom, his ambitions, and his vengeance for. Knowing that if he was still active, his enemies would one day find her, bringing her into constant danger… And with her mother fighting on the other side of the conflict, he would bring unneeded burdens to her. To see her before him, well loved, as beautiful as her mother, he was relieved.

* * *

"_I knew that your father loved me, Miryu-chan," her mother told her. "And I know that without you, he would not have surrendered so easily. You might think of me as an opportunist, to use your existence against him, but you must know that you are the reason why I can never fully despise the man that I should kill. You do not know how much you are like him, child, you are everything that he should have been… You are lucky, to have chosen your path so young, I was forced to choose when he came into my life…" Her mother did not say anything more, but she would not still understand anyways. _

What kind of sick, disturbed person was she? This man, who was holding on to her for dear life, he killed thousands of people, and caused many more others to die… Why the hell was she so happy to see him? No wait… that must be what her mother had been feeling all this while about him, perhaps even on a more elevated level… It was only then did she understand why her mother decided to leave this reunion with her birth father until she could choose her own path…

"_He loves you," her adoptive father, the man that she had known as "Daddy" all of her young life said to her just before she boarded the helicopter headed to Guantanamo Bay. He had raised her as his own unconditionally, but he knew that there would be a void in her heart that only one man could fill. As much as he had cherished and loved her, he knew that one day, she would go looking for her biological father, and since Makarov was alive and well, there was no reason that she could not. It had been her right to do so. "That's the only thing you need to know, lassie."

* * *

_

"You look just like your mother," he told her when they parted slowly from their embrace. "You are just as beautiful as she is."

Miryu chuckled, a reaction that he immediately expected. She really was Ryuka's daughter, even laughing the same way her mother did. "Funny, she always said that I was just like you…"

This time, it was Makarov's turn to roll his eyes. There would never be a moment when Ryuka would not contradict everything that he would set forth before her… He should have known all along. He loved her, he still did, but she refused to return his love; she gave him a daughter, whom they both loved dearly, but their meeting was delayed until now… But it mattered little now. There was another young woman with red hair and fiery eyes that he had to tend to at the moment. The what-ifs and maybe-ifs had to wait.

* * *

HAN: Hokay, I lied. The previous one was not the last oneshot. ^.^


	18. Oneshot: Comfort

HAN: There's very little Soap/Ryuka fluff in this fic, so I thought, what the heck. I have to remedy this. This happens between the Hornet's Nest, and the Only Easy Day was Yesterday. Hope you like it! And oh yes, for you Makarov lovers, I have posted a fic known as Beautiful, which is a rather steamy lemon-fic pertaining to the question what if the agent sent to kill Makarov was a woman. Please check it out if you loved Makarov here! Thanks!

* * *

Cpt. John "Soap" Mactavish,

Task Force 141

Location: Classified Submarine.

* * *

Nightmares… The only soldier that didn't have them was Ryuka, because of some philosophy that her family practiced, but almost every other person he knew had nightmares. That night would not be different. He saw that day again, replayed fully before his eyes…

_One by one, he saw his comrades being killed by Zakhaev and his men… Griggs was killed in the midst of saving him, by a bullet lodged right into his skull, while the one-armed Russian personally shot down Gaz… He looked towards the side, and heard Price calling out for him…_

"_Soap…" the Captain said, sliding him his pistol, the M1911 he had always carried. He was the only one who had a clear shot of Zakhaev and his lackeys, and he knew what to do… Once he had the weapon in his hands, he quickly dispatched the two men beside the villain, and shot him._

_However, he missed, and Zakhaev's lips turned into an evil sneer. With his own weapon, Zakhaev shot Price dead, before producing another familiar person from behind him… "John!" she shouted his name, black eyes filled with tears as she looked towards him. Within seconds, she was dead as well…_

_He wanted to cry out, but he was too late. When he missed that shot, he had damned every single one that he had cared for, Price, his SAS brothers, and even Ryuka… _

"John!"

_His vision blacked out, but still, he could hear Ryuka's voice, while Zakhaev's laughter faded out. Why was that?_

"Oi, baka, wake up!"

Soap's eyes immediately shot open, and he rose abruptly from the bed. From Zakhaev's fortress in Russia, he had returned to Ryuka's quarters in the sub that acted as their home-base. There she was, alive, and well, but her eyebrows were furrowed, written with worry as she placed a hand on his face, not caring about her lack of modesty at the moment.

"John, it's only a dream," she told him as he started to breathe heavily, breaking into pails of cold sweat. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, reassuring him that what he had seen would not come true. With her smaller, white hand, she took his and kissed it. "You're with me now..."

There was something in her voice that slowly calmed him; her very presence was an addictive drug, sedating him, almost like morphine. He rarely talked to anyone about that day, the day that had gained him the infamy that he had received. In only the 6th day of his service in the British SAS, he had killed the leader of the Russian Ultranationalists… Who ever knew that another one would just pop out, worse than the first one? Any sane person would not even try to open the wounds of another, especially wounds that deeply sown into his being. Even Ryuka, said nothing of it if she could help it.

Soap did not reply to her words, he just clutched her hand, as tightly as possible. "Reddie…" he murmured her call-sign, and she nodded, clinging herself tighter to him. As the moments passed, he started to relax, and his heart rate and breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Did you see him again?" she asked, receiving a nod for an answer. That could either mean Captain Price, or Zakhaev, but he knew that she meant either one of them. "At least you knew that he was either dead or dying… I waited for three years until you told me what happened…"

Ah, so it was Price. From Ryuka, he knew that Captain Price was a great family friend. He and her father had been deployed on several missions together during the First Iraq War, and had become fast friends for almost a lifetime. Price had been like a second father to her, and was the one who launched her career and gave her the call-sign, "Red Dragon".

The two of them were indebted to Price in their own ways, and his fate, so unknown to them, would be a constant reminder of who had been sacrificed for them to get this far… Somehow, with the knowledge that this Prisoner 627 was the man that Makarov hated more than the Americans and that he had valued his mentor highly… They had hoped that somehow, by some cruel trick of fate, that it would be Price, deep inside of them, those thoughts unspoken to the other.

"He would be proud of you," Ryuka told him further, positioning herself to face him, piercing his cold, blue eyes with her smoldering black ones. "Wherever he is, when he sees what a great leader you are to us, when he knows that we would die beside you if you would just so wish it, he will be proud of you. I'm not just saying this because I love you, John."

Soap said nothing, but pressed his lips against hers, in a kiss so frantic that it caught her breath immediately. Her captain was a strong man, but even the strongest of them, had their own times of weakness. She would always be there for him, comforting him, with only her presence. "Thank you," he whispered into her ears, just as their lips parted, knowing that he could have hurt her in that moment of instinct.

Of all things that she could have done, Ryuka smiled, and nodded. "There is nothing to thank for, John," she told him, kissing his forehead. Slowly, she led him to lean back onto the bed, and placed her head on his broad chest, letting her hair spill over his body. "Sleep, you have a big mission tomorrow," she told him, still holding his hand. "Prisoner 627 can't be held waiting."

And sleep he did, but not before claiming her lips one more time. "You're not a dragon, Reddie," he murmured, before closing his eyes, "You're an angel."

Ryuka chuckled, and shook her head, pulling the blankets around them, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Goodnight, John," she yawned, drifting into sleep just seconds after.


	19. Oneshot: Time

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Shanghai

Status: Makarov's Prisoner

* * *

When Ryuka was required to use her beauty for deep cover missions, she would usually carry a few things with her: her katana, a knife strapped to her thigh, and near-lethal doses of sleeping pills. She would usually get the man she was supposed "seduce" and drug him so heavily that he would think that she actually slept with him.

But this time, it was for real. A year ago, she had looked into Vladimir Makarov's heterochromic eyes of green and blue, and knew for the very first time that he was no mere Ultranationalist... Just a month before, she had been deployed in Russia to extract information regarding his every move, killing and torturing 100 men in the process... This man, was the man Shepherd betrayed the Task Force 141 to, this man was the man who Shepherd used to spark a war between Russia and America, and she knew that she was offered as a prize of war to this man... There was no way else Makarov could have known that she had been in Dushanbe, even if she was so fatefully placed in the very orphanage that he had built as a cover for his pursuits in Tajikistan...

As his lips press against hers for a kiss, she quickly reached for the Desert Eagle lying on the vanity and aimed it at his solar plexus. "Get away from me," she threatened, ready to fire at point-blank range. She knew that he did not fear death, neither did she, but still, she could not submit to the enemy so easily... With Shepherd dead, he was the only one remaining that barred her freedom, and she would do almost everything to get it back.

Makarov gave her a wry chuckle. "You know that you cannot shoot me," he told her, standing there as the cold steel of the weapon rested upon the center of his forehead. "Darling, you need me alive..." He was right, she knew it... "Just as I need you alive, darling." With those words, he took her by the wrist and turned her so that he would be holding her from behind, and grazed his lips against the back of her neck. Tall, fiery and restive... She was everything that he had imagined her to be. "You have haunted my dreams, ever since we met in Pyongyang."

Pyongyang... It seemed to be so long ago... So, damned long ago. Those days had been the happiest days of her life, being with the man that she loved, and the others that she had known as her brothers... She remembered him, his piercing, mismatched eyes, but she gave him little thought. She did not respond to his words, closing her eyes as he started to nibble on the arch of her neck. "You took those days from me," she managed to say, her voice, subdued to a mere murmur, but it remained perfectly audible to him.

"Now, if your good friend Shepherd did not wish to make a deal with me, and then try to kill me, we would not be on the same page, would we?" he asked her. True, the blame of his actions these past days could be placed on Shepherd, but still, it did not justify everything that he had ever done. Whether or not he was also a victim did not matter, especially when he was responsible for the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands more innocents. "But I must commend you and your comrades, for even coming this far. I heard that Price and your dear Captain Mactavish killed Shepherd and are now the most wanted war criminals?"

Those words seemed to have ignited a greater fire in her already burning soul. Defiantly, she turned to face him, staring him down with those dark, smoldering eyes. "Clear our names," she demanded. "Tell the world that Shepherd used you, it is the only way to solve this!"

"And risk prosecution?" Makarov asked in answer, complete with a raised eyebrow. "A woman like you would not be so naive as to ask this of me, darling. However, I will be honest with you, and I have the means of doing so... But there will be a price to pay on your behalf, no pun intended." He tipped her chin with his finger and thumb gently, admiring the sight of her beauty, adorned by diamonds and sapphires that he had purchased whenever he thought of her throughout the year between their previous meeting and their current one. "I would have you denounce all ties with the Task Force 141, America and Japan, and we will work together, hand in hand, to create a new world order."

Ryuka slapped him with all her might, so quick that he could have sworn that he could barely see her move. "I will die before any of that happens," she hissed, rising in anger as the seconds passed. It was a wrong move. She was not in a position of power, she knew it. He could do anything to her, and no one would be there to save her... Unarmed, and alone, she was just as much his prisoner in a cold, dark cell, even if she was standing there before him, unbound, in a designer gown, with jewelry other women would kill to have.

If Makarov had been just another sadistic terrorist, he would have had her beaten up already, or he could have done even worse... But Makarov was not. First of all, he was enraptured by her, and secondly, he knew that she had nowhere to run. If the Chinese army would have discovered her, they would have her immediately shipped to America, where she would be duly silenced, and the Japanese government would just stand there and watch. She had been a prized soldier, but her actions and her triumphs were so blacked out that even the Emperor of Japan would have a hard time getting clearance to see records of any one of them. She had to wait, wait for her precious captains to appear, and then wait again for the perfect chance to strike.

Thus, he forced her into his arms and kissed her fully, making sure that he could taste her sweet lips, all of its nuances, consuming her and her fiery soul. It would be only a matter of time before she would be unable to resist him...

* * *

5 Years Later...

* * *

Col. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Location: Guantanamo Bay Detention Center

* * *

Five years ago that day, Ryuka had been made Makarov's prisoner. And now, five years later, she was now a Colonel, having going through various officer training programs, and natural promotions granted by the Emperor. Heck, not long after she had given birth to Miryu, she was promoted two grades up to the rank of "Major", by Imperial discretion, and was still the fastest rising active combatant in the newly reformed Task Force 141, acting as one of its three field commanders.

She had since made peace with herself of her poly-amorous tendencies towards both Soap and Makarov. Both men loved her in their own ways, and both men understood the position each of them put her through. "You're still an asshole," she told Makarov, leaning on his chest as they lay on the four-poster bed in his bedroom in the vast detention center, which now held only him. She would only visit him about once a year, bringing photographs and videos of their daughter for him, and generally "catching up" with him. "Your daughter was caught doing homework for her classmates in return for money!"

Makarov chuckled. To be honest, he was not only a gifted soldier in his glory days, he had a nose for business as well. Most of his illegal operations had been covered by largely legal, and highly profitable ventures, all of which he would give to Miryu one day, when she was ready to accept them. He already planned everything out, and only regretted that he would not be there to see Ryuka's face when it happened. "And how does that equate with me being an asshole, darling?" he asked, his lips turning into a smirk as Ryuka glared at him, as always. No matter how many times he saw that angered expression on her face, he would always take it as a gift presented to him... She looked even more dazzling when she was angry, and when she was in the heat of battle. And now when he would have no chance to see her fight, the former would just have to suffice.

"That certainly did not come from her mother's side of the family," Ryuka countered, "But it must have come from someone else... And, she does not know that we cashed out Shepherd's blank check."

Makarov shook his head, and kissed her forehead. Lt. Gen. Shepherd had been issued a blank check to take him down, and when Price, Mactavish and Ryuka had taken credit for his arrest, they were given that black check as "compensation" for their losses. Each of them had drawn a billion Pounds Sterling each, the most stable currency at the time, but only at a fraction of the cost of continuing the military pursuit. In the end, the World Bank reimbursed the U.S government what they had taken, without conditions, and the three of them quickly opened Swiss Bank accounts to store their new wealth, which was never spoken of again. As expected of humble, simple soldiers, the money was just left there, to collect interest, just as they had disappeared from the limelight, returning to their roots as a highly secretive international special operations task force...

"And so, you are blaming me for Miryu's raw talent?" he asked her, running a hand across her flat abdomen. She was no longer in her twenties, but still, she looked not a day older from the time that he had met her. Apart from that, being a mother brought something to her beauty, only increasing in its quality. "You can do better than that, darling." Before she was even able to speak, he quickly sealed her lips with his, moving himself above her as she started to kiss him back.

"Of course I can," she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It took her a few years of soul-searching, a little therapy, and whatnot. What she was doing would have thrown away all notions of moral repercussions away, but, at least, she was more at peace with herself, knowing that she finally knew what she wanted. A family of her own, a loving man, her precocious daughter, and a Russian terrorist on the side. Well, at least he would be in prison indefinitely. Did Soap know what they would be doing during her yearly visits to Makarov? Yes, but such things came and went without saying anything. Even if Ryuka could put it up, he highly doubted Makarov would, being twenty years her senior, so to speak.

However, even a year into his fifth decade, Makarov hardly showed any signs of age as well. He was still charismatic, still atheletic, and still highly, highly irresistable, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, after she was able to see him as some other than her enemy. He was right all along, but she put up a great fight as well, and fight, she did. The tables had turned, she had been once his prisoner, and now, he was the one who was literally imprisoned... "Indeed," he whispered into her ear, nibbling on her earlobe. "Would you care to demonstrate then, darling?"

A malicious smile came to Ryuka's lips. "You asked for it..."

Within seconds, Makarov ended up on the floor. Oh, how he loved her...

* * *

HAN: I feel guilty. Them Ryuka-Makarov fluff scenes are getting easier and easier to write. HAIH. What is a girl to do? Well, what are you waiting for, hit the review button already!


	20. Oneshot: Secrets

Lt. Ryuka Algren

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Land-base-Location classified

It has been about three months since Ryuka had joined the Task Force 141, and in those three months, it was as if she had gained a brand new family, a band of brothers so close to her that the only thing that set them apart was the fact that they were not truly related.

"Heard about the roof falling on you," Meat said to Ryuka as she lay on her bed, with a cast on her right leg. Being the only woman in the field had its perks, meaning that she had a two-person room all to herself, but for the past few days, her room would often be bustling with activity. "You must have moved pretty fast to get out of there in time."

"Well, not fast enough," she answered before tilting her head in Ghost's direction. "If Riley had been able to get out of there faster, I could have made it," They were in Siberia, on a mission to take down an entire base of relative importance, and when they were about to be extracted, about fifty Ultranationalists emerged from nowhere, and threatened to kill Ghost, MacTavish and herself ala firing squad, not the most creative threat, but still, it was rather effective to make them rethink their situation: low on ammo, and severely tired after about two days of running through forests and mountains.

Ghost snorted. "Thing is, Reddie here decides the best way to take them all out was to push the two of us out of the warehouse and heroically shoots the beams of the warehouse we were in," he added to her tale. "You should see that face on MacTavish when he thought that she wouldn't make it."

All those in the room roared with laughter. It was an open secret, ever since she first joined the 141, that MacTavish had a sort of... thing for her. It was highly unconventional, two people from the same team being with one another, but the Task Force 141 was a rather unconventional group of people anyways. They knew about it because that the Captain was more overprotective over her than he had been over the others, and more critical of her performance. "That asshole is too much of a worrywart," Ryuka said, rolling her eyes, downing the remaining contents of her cup of Japanese green tea that she had received from her parents.

"Uh... Reddie..."

And there was the said worrywart, standing above Ryuka, his hands on either side of his hips. If looks could kill, Captain MacTavish would already be charged for mass-murder. However, she was not afraid. In fact, she returned the glare. Ryuka was called "Red Dragon" for reasons other than her red hair and the fact that her name could be translated into "Dragon-Flower" in Japanese. This woman was highly independent, and would not willingly bow to authority if she did not see it fit.

"We'd better go now," Scarecrow announced, and they quickly emptied the room, leaving the Captain and Ryuka to fight it out with one another. "Get well soon, Reddie."

Unfazed by the angered expression on Soap's face, Ryuka smiled and waved them goodbye before continuing to glare at him. "I should have you court-martialed," he growled at her as he sat by the side of her bed.

"Hmph," Ryuka replied haughtily. "I save your life and you want to have me court-martialed... Indeed you are a fair captain, MacTavish." Her black eyes, they looked into his blue ones, demanding an answer from him. She just did not know how to deal with him. One moment, he would look at her in fascination, and in the next, he would demand results from her that bordered on utter impossibility, while sometime later, he would just pin her to the wall and kiss her until she was utterly breathless...

To her surprise, Soap held his hand to her face, caressing it ever so lightly. "I don't want you to get hurt," he told her, his voice turning softer in tonality. "You're one of the best fighters I know, and I can't afford to lose you."

What the hell did he mean by that?

But before she was able to ask anything, she felt his lips crash against hers, and she was leaned deeper into the bed as he straddled either side of her legs, deepening the kiss with every second that passed. At that moment in time, everything seemed to be frozen still, except for the two of them.

Not one to be tamed easily, Ryuka fought for dominance and gently pushed him back, bringing her arm around his neck. Those dark eyes, they absolutely captivated him. "I meant what I said, Reddie," Soap murmured into her neck. She smiled, and broke into a light chuckle.

"Perhaps I should make more roofs fall on me the next time," she joked, kissing his forehead. "But that does not change the fact that we are in the same team, and Shepherd will have our asses kicked out if he finds out about... us."

Us... that sounded like a good word to Soap's ears, particularly when it came out from her lips. "Shepherd doesn't need to know," he replied. "And the boys, they'll know how to shut up."

"And how would you do just that?"

"It will be our little secret."


	21. Oneshot: She Made Bank

Lt. Gen. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Task Force 141-UN Headquarters, Manhattan, NY.

* * *

Usually, when Ryuka was in a foul mood, it would only come to two causes, either he did something wrong, or somehow or another, Vladimir Makarov managed to do something from Guantanamo Bay. About 10 years to the day to that Makarov had been sentenced to lifetime imprisonment in the refurbished facility, he still managed to get on Ryuka's nerves. Heck, Soap had already come up with an ingenious way to find out who actually flung her into a fit of rage worse than any hormonal woman during that time of the month.

If it was him, she would curse so fluently in all the United Nations official languages and several Chinese dialects that those who heard them, usually war-hardened military personnel would turn as red as tomatoes. This was highly commonplace, and was something that had been actually carried forward from the original Task Force 141, when they had been under the command of General Shepherd. Ryuka had a tendency to think on her feet, and often would not take her own safety into account when she executed her plans on the fly, and Soap highly disapproved of those measures, no matter how effective they were.

However, if it was Makarov... She would be completely silent. So silent, in fact, that whoever was in her line of sight would quickly clear the way in fear of getting shot, stabbed, or even have a throwing knife embedded in their body parts or to. The former terrorist was a cunning man after all... It turned out that before he had surrendered to the UN Security Council, he had his "affairs" sorted out, and planned to give her progressive "shocks" to her life, mostly concerning Miryu.

That day was one of those days.

* * *

"Ma'am, we're here on behalf of our client," two men in suits, one from the Bank of Zurich, the other, from a premier lawyer firm, said to Ryuka in her office, with Price standing next to her. "You might know him..." They handed her an envelope, and it was no surprise to her that it was Makarov...

"What does he want with me this time?" she asked them, rolling her eyes. She could just imagine that man's face right now... That asshole just loved to make her angry when she had least expected it, and it made her even more miffed.

The men in the suits looked at one another and sighed. They knew an angry woman when they saw one. "Our client, wishes to inform you that he has named your daughter the sole heir to all his legal businessness." Legal business? Makarov had legal business? How could she have not seen this? Of course he would... He needed somewhere to launder all the money that he had gained from his... activities. But how could his legal business be so profitable that the Bank of Zurich was tasked to keep a close eye on them?

She looked at the files, and her mouth remained unclosed for several moments. "Come on, Reddie, it can't be that bad," Price said. "Well let's see... three hotels in the UAE, three mansions in Moscow, one casino in Macau, three bars in Europe..." And that was only the tip of the iceberg. So, Makarov was half a real estate mogul, but there was still a crown jewel in the lot...

"The weapons supplied to the Ultranationalists are all legal?"

Ryuka was oblivious. Her daughter would be a billionaire by the time she graduates from University, and Makarov did not even to bother to tell her anything before he sent his lawyer and his banker to see her. In fact, she had just seen him two months ago!

"Reddie, Miryu's rich, you ought to show little more than the look that you're going to kill someone," Price lectured, but it was too late. Ryuka already had a throwing knife in her hands.

"These gentlemen know that I have 3 billion Pounds Sterling in my own account, Uncle Price," she told Price. "Don't worry, I will not kill Makarov in his sleep. However, next time when you come to give my daughter what he has told you to, please, inform me beforehand."

* * *

Ten Years Later

* * *

It was true that Makarov absolutely loved to aggravate Ryuka. His only regret was that he would not be there to see her face when his lawyer and banker gave the profiles of all his assets to her. However, that day, his chance came when his own daughter, who looked like an exact copy of her mother, except for the heterochomia.

"Otou-san, you freaking asshole!" Miryu shouted, no doubt, those two unlucky men had found her already. He would have to have Captain Price to arrange them a raise.


	22. Song: Things You Never Knew

Looking at the kids playing,

In playground with their Dads.

I often knew who you were...

But I never knew you.

I come home, and I see who I am.

I feel you, but never could see you.

I'm sorry, I could never think of you.

You do not know how much I miss you,

You do not know how much I want you here,

And when I see others with their families, I don't know you are.

You do not know why I have never came here,

You do not know how I came to know that

You're the one that caused so much darkness...

* * *

Youngest child of the old war,

You are my treasure.

When the night comes, your lights go out,

I'll be with you in your dreams.

You'll go home, with those who love you,

Remember, that my thoughts are with you.

You do not know how much I want to see you,

You do not know the price I paid to love you,

When you choose your own path, only will you know

How much I love you so.

I'm sorry that I can't be with you always,

I'm sorry that I can only see your pictures.

My heart, will always be with you.

* * *

I come home, and I know who I am,

You'll go home, with those who love you...

You do not know how much I miss you,

You do not know how much I want you here,

When you choose your own path, only will you know

How much I love you so.

You do not know why I have never came here,

You do not know how I came to know that...

My heart, will always be with you.

* * *

HAN: I was insipired to write this after listening to LeeHom Wang's song, All the Things that You Never Knew （你不知道的事). There's a video of the song, with english subs, right here. To view it, remove the spaces in the link. http:/ www. youtube. com / watch ? v = 0Ro8I9ID73o I know that this is not very original, but this song is dedicated to Makarov and Miryu, and the love between them. If you would like, you can use the words here to sing along with the original song, karaoke style, ahahah ^.^

Have a great weekend!


	23. Oneshot: Catsuit

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141

Fire Base Phoenix

* * *

"Reddie darlin', what the hell are you planning to do, and why are you in that... thing?" Ghost asked Ryuka. Not only she had more or less 24 people scattered around the Pit where the targets were exactly, she was dressed in something that looked like a catsuit, but with a very, very body-flattering corset made of something which highly resembled Kevlar.

Ryuka judged his expressions and chuckled. "Shepherd wanted me to test out this new armor, and how am I supposed to do that without live fire?" she asked in return. It was a plausible reason, but why would Shepherd want to test out new armor? "Well, some of the scientists in the CIA argued that with lighter and more mobile armor, we'd be able to attract more girls into the armed forces, so, who he decided to send in the only girl for the job."

Ghost rolled his eyes. If MacTavish found out, he would never hear the end of it. "I'm gonna walk away, and I'm not gonna ask anything more," he told her. At times like these, it would be best that he did not interfere with Ryuka at all, and with MacTavish, when he gets wind of this. She was testing out armor personally, in a live fire exercise, and there was a small chance that something might go wrong. It might be small, almost miniscule, but it was still there.

"Thanks, Ghost," she said, kissing Ghost on the forehead before she unsheathed her katana. "I won't get a scratch, I promise." The man just nodded, and walked away to watch at a safe distance. "Alright, boys, I'm ready."

* * *

Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Fire Base Phoenix

* * *

Soap was going through some routine paperwork when he heard gunfire in the pit. It was not like the Rangers to have live fire exercises, unless... Assuming the worst, he quickly took the nearest weapon he could reach and dashed towards the Pit, only to find his men, and the Rangers surrounding the four corners of the place, shouting and cheering.

"Ghost, what the hell is going on?" he asked Ghost, who was at the observation point with Scarecrow and Meat. The three of them did not say anything, causing his temper to rise further. He looked towards the Pit, and found a few more of his men, and several Rangers, standing where the targets were usually placed... "Who authorized this exercise?"

"She said that Shepherd..."

Ghost, sensing trouble, immediately covered Meat's mouth with his hand. There was only one "she" in the 141... "How long had she been in there?" MacTavish asked his men.

"Er... 18 seconds."

"Is she armed?"

"Yessir."

"Ghost, I don't mean that katana of hers!"

The bell rang, signifying that Ryuka had completed the course... In 19 seconds, armed only with a katana... It was a record performance, alright. Soap said nothing more, and started to move towards the exit of the Pit...

* * *

Lt. Gen. Shepherd

Task Force 141

Fire Base Phoenix

* * *

Shepherd rolled his finger around his temple, nursing a headache that he knew was soon to come. Yes, it was true that he had told Ryuka to test out a new form of armor, and yes, he told her that she could go with it anytime she wanted, but he had never told her that she could test it out of with a live fire exercise.

And now, the two of them were in his office. He should be lucky that two of his best soldiers were not already trying to kill one another, very, very lucky indeed. "Well, let's get to business first," he told them, standing up from his chair. "Reddie confirmed that the new armor can be used in the field, which was the basis of this exercise..."

As always, the two of them would be glaring at one another. Shepherd reckoned that if he did not intervene in... four seconds, they would start to take out one another.

Four...

Three...

Two...

"And I hope that the next time you wish to modify the experiment, Reddie, you take it up with MacTavish or me, first."

"Yes, sir," Ryuka replied, and left with MacTavish after saluting him.

* * *

Lt. Ryuka "Red Dragon" Algren

Task Force 141

Fire Base Phoenix

* * *

"Damn you, MacTavish," she moaned the very moment her back came into contact with the canvas of her tent, held taut by the thick metal spokes which held it firmly onto the ground. His lips, they grazed the part of her neck where he knew she had been the most sensitive.

Soap said nothing, but continued to rain kisses all over her neck, décolletage and collarbones. "You got what you wanted, didn't you?" he asked her. In fact, Shepherd was so pleased with her performance that he would order not only desert-friendly armor like what she had tested, other similar ones that would match every single terrain that they would be in.

Ryuka rolled her eyes, and pulled his lips level to hers, kissing him back. "My ancestors wore leather catsuits to war," she told him, reminding him of her heritage as a direct descendant of female samurai. "Besides, you like seeing me in this..."

Well, Soap could not deny that she was right. The catsuit highlighted every single curve on her body, while that Kevlar corset functioned more than just to protect her torso, it functioned exactly as a corset did... Her already generous cleavage was even more... prominent to say the least.

"Just don't do that ever again," he chided her, "I almost killed Ghost, you know?"


	24. Oneshot: FNG

Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 – Land Base (Location Classified)

* * *

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it at all. Not only he was in the Task Force 141, he was looking at a living _legend_, or at least, one of the scions of legends. She was standing in the training grounds, practicing a series of kata – an assembly of kenjutsu-based movements collected into sets, wearing the catsuit so iconic of her ancestors.

Well, the reader might ask, how the hell Roach knew all about her without even meeting her. I would answer this question for you. You see, Roach was quite an otaku, in the days of his youth, and among all the anime series so famous in his generation, one stood out the most because it was based on real people and real occurrences.

It told of a female bloodline in Japan, carried from mother to daughter, all of them, bearing the rank of Samurai. These special daughters of such a patriarchal society had names that contained the word "Ryu", which meant Dragon in Japanese. In the late 1800s, an American Captain was sent to Japan to modernize the Japanese army, and one of the daughters of that mysterious house married him, bearing him two children, a daughter, and a son. The daughter remained in Japan, while the son went back to America, to carry on his father's military legacy…

His training officer, who was also the other XO of the 141, was Ryuka Algren, obviously, she was a direct descendant of the son… Just looking at her brought all his anime-related dreams into reality.

"So… do you?"

"Yes, Roach, I use a katana, no problem."

"And can you?"

"Cut men into nine pieces of meat? Of course…"

"Wow…"

Roach was literally dumbfounded, to say the least. And if that was not enough, Lt. Algren dragged the Captain (who had appeared out of nowhere) before her and told him to stand still. "Reddie, just what are you trying to do?" the Captain asked, rather nervously.

"Hold still, MacTavish, I am showing Roach here a work of art that you will never learn how to appreciate," Lt. Algren replied, getting into her stance. Roach just held his breath. He knew that if he blinked in any way, he would miss the whole thing that she was about to show him.

And then it happened. Nine perfect cuts on various places of the Captain's person, so tiny and miniscule, but still, they were cuts nevertheless. "What… the…" Roach could see that MacTavish was as stunned as he was, but in a different way. Roach had been expecting it, but MacTavish was a different story altogether.

"That's the exact effect as the anime!"

With that, Lt. Algren smiled sweetly and the both of them and went her way. "Anime?" MacTavish asked him. "What anime?"

* * *

HAN: The anime spoken is Rurouni Kenshin, where the character Hiko Seijurou displays the technique known as Ku-Zu-Ryu-Sen. Ryuka's ancestry was a reference to my other fanfiction series, known as the Ryujou Chronicles, in which they are Rurouni Kenshin/Last Samurai crossovers. ^.^


	25. Oneshot: Daughter, Miryu's POV

If you ask me, I have many memories of Oka-chan. She is the best mother a girl could ever have.

* * *

You see, until I was older, I did not know that she was a soldier. All I remembered was that her office was very close to our home in New York, and that nice people in uniforms would always salute her whenever she passed them. Ever since I could remember, I could recognize that round emblem, with the winged skull and the sword. Before I could even understand what it meant, I understood that those nice people were all working for Oka-chan.

Oka-chan was a fighter. She would always have her katana beside her, whether she was at work, or at home making those pretty bento boxes for lunch, her katana would always hang at her hips. I knew that Daddy didn't really like it though, he said that guns were better in these modern times, but Oka-chan would just smile sweetly at him and roll her eyes behind his back.

I remember once when I was ten Daddy was called away for a mission in Israel that he had to personally lead himself, he came back severely wounded, and Oka-chan, she did not even let a tear escape from her black eyes. She just told their men to bring him to the infirmary downstairs and told me to go back home. I knew the mission had gone awry, and Grand-Uncle Price was nowhere to be found. Oka-chan went into the control room and gave out her orders. Five men were sent to our home to protect me, I knew that Oka-chan and Daddy trusted them with their lives.

Oka-chan was deployed into Israel that same night. Not only did she take a few of the best men in the 141, she brought with her 20,000 soldiers. All of them were UN-Coalition soldiers, and with their presence alone, the Islamist insurgents quickly fled from Jerusalem, leaving without their weapons. That was the first operation that I remember Oka-chan handling. Uncle Price told me that if the men under Daddy would willingly die if he told them to, Oka-chan's would follow her to the very end.

And when Oka-chan returned, she hardly left Daddy and me. In the morning, she would cook a simple breakfast for me, and brought all sorts of Chinese herbs, traditional remedies and other healing foods that she had inherited from Oba-chan. I knew that if Daddy could complain, he would, but in his current condition, he took everything in quietly, even enduring the ginseng. But the doctors were surprised that after two weeks, Daddy was as good as new, and was fit enough to go on another mission.

"I do not care how bitter it tastes MacTavish, you are going to drink the whole thing down or I will put it in the IV," she threatened Daddy once when he refused to drink another ginseng concoction, and I remembered that Daddy almost wanted to say something in return, but he didn't. The thing was, they said that Oka-chan used to be Daddy's subordinate a long time ago, I don't know when that was, but I could certainly see the disbelief in Daddy's eyes whenever he failed to pull rank on her, or she actually used it against him.

That night, I visited Daddy when I finished my homework, and I asked him, "Daddy, why do you drink that stuff Oka-chan makes when you know that it sucks?" I was very young then, and I only knew to avoid those things whenever Oka-chan made them.

Daddy smiled and put his good hand on my head. "Well, your Oka-chan means well, torturous spider she is," he answered me, blue eyes twinkling. "She's been brewin' those things ever since she got into the 141. Had Korean ginseng patches all over the place and she taught the caretakers how to take care of 'em." He was talking about that base that they had a long, long time ago. "Had a hard time getting all of us to drinking that stuff, too, especially after we were off the meds. But hey, it works."

That was when I was ten. A few weeks later, Oka-chan gave me a bokken and led me to the training grounds. I was to learn kenjutsu from her, as she had learnt from her mother. I tell you, those days were awfully grueling. Normally, Oka-chan was always smiling and gentle, but the moment she put on the hakama and gi like I did, she changed into a different person altogether. She was vicious, wanting better and better from me as time passed. It took me three years to master the kenjutsu style, but it was worth it. Oka-chan told me that it was with this style that our ancestors made it rain blood in Kyoto every single night, right until the Meiji era came into Japan, and like her, I received my own katana when I completed my training. I decided to keep mine with me at all times as well, whenever I could.

In the days of my childhood, Oka-chan was a fierce warrior, much like Daddy. They would always be bickering over one thing or another. On a good day, it would be operation tactics, while on a bad day, it would be how they should train the rookies, and/or the yearly budget. They just agreed to disagree. Oka-chan, whenever she was angry with Daddy, she would curse in almost every language possible, and Uncle Price would pull me away from her so that I'll remain a "proper lady".

But as I grew older, I realized that Daddy was not my biological father. I forgot how I came to know that, but it seemed like it did not matter at all at first. But when I wanted to know who he was, no one would tell me.

"He was a patriot who loved his country," Oka-chan would always say, her eyes suddenly distant. I never understood why. For a long time, I had thought that my real father was a soldier that Oka-chan had fallen in love with before she met Daddy, sometime around when she was carrying me. Those thoughts were quickly erased from my head when I started to see the name: Vladimir Makarov.

I remember I was 13, and our teacher, Mrs. Ramlah had been talking about terrorists. I knew all about them, practically, Oka-chan and Daddy took them down for a living, and we were assigned to write a report on Vladimir Makarov. That name had sounded familiar to me, somehow, and thus, without a thought about the subject, my classmates and I skipped to the library to read up some facts about him.

I was shocked, in fact, we all were.

He was the guy who had shot down all those people in that Russian airport the year before I was born. Oka-chan told me before that it was a horrible, horrible massacre. He was the guy who launched a reign of terror in Europe equal to that of Osama bin Laden's Afghan regime in the Middle East. Naturally, the more we found out, the more curious we were. As we delved deeper into his operations, we saw the Task Force 141 appearing over and over again.

By the end of the day, I knew that Oka-chan and Daddy had something to do with him.

"I will have to talk to your teacher," Oka-chan told me when I told her everything about the assignment. She did not say anything more. The next day, we were reassigned to another terrorist, but the name still hung onto me. From that day on, it had become an obsession of mine, so much so that I learned to hack into the Task Force 141 archives.

When I was 16, I managed to break into a high-security file, one that mentioned Oka-chan being captured by this Vladimir Makarov in Tajikistan. I was about to read further when Grand-Uncle Price came into the room, and brought me to his office.

"Now, little missy," Uncle Price said to me in a business-like voice. "I'm gonna let this slide once, but if you are caught hacking into our system again, I'm gonna have to arrest you." There was a look in his eyes that told me that he knew something that I didn't. I knew it.

"Jiji, you knew what happened, I know it," I replied, staring Grand-Uncle Price down, the very first time I dared to do so in my life. "Oka-chan said that I lost my father around this time, I want to know how."

It was at that moment when Oka-chan entered the room, her black eyes not filled with that regal authority that I had always known when she was with her men. "In time, I will tell you, Miryu-chan," she said, her voice filled with some pent-up emotion that I could never name. "You do not need to be burdened by this information so young. One day, you will choose the path you would take, and when you have chosen, I promise you, that I'll tell you everything about your father."

This was one time when I was in a pickle with Oka-chan and neither Daddy nor Uncle Price would help me escape, no matter what I tried. However, nothing changed, other than the fact that my internet use was closely monitored. Still, it did not stop me from constantly researching about Vladimir Makarov, feeling a strange connection with him. At that time, I had thought that it was only because I was obsessed about him.

"Hey, you know what?" one of my friends, Tommy asked me. His father was in the military too, and our parents often worked closely together. "I heard that Vladimir Makarov is still alive,"

"Alive?" I asked. Of course he was alive; no one ever said that he was dead. "Where is he now?" It was ironic. Oka-chan and Daddy were from the organization which took him down, but I couldn't get anything from them.

Tommy chewed on his French-fry absently and said, "Guantanamo Bay Prison, duh."

Guantanamo Bay prison? But the place was evacuated during the Obama administration, right? It's supposed to be empty right now. "Are there others there?"

"Nope, just the one. He's been living the high life there, too."

"How do you know?" she asked incredulously. Tommy then explained to her that his father was now in charge of overseeing the NATO soldiers that guarded the site. Only one person had the clearance two see that man, and so far, no one ever came. "Wow…"

"And you know what, I think your Mom's the one with the clearance."

Tommy always had the craziest ideas. I did not believe him. "And why is that?"

"Hello, your Mom's a Four-star general, and we all know that only three people from the original Task Force 141 alive are your parents and your Grand-Uncle. She must have clearance to see the guy," Tommy replied. Still, I did not buy it, although a part of me knew that what he said was probably true. So, after that day, I left the case alone, and started to move on.

It was my sophomore year in the University of Columbia that I Oka-chan told me everything.

Vladimir Makarov was my father, my biological father. A few weeks before I was conceived, he had kidnapped her from her hiding place in Tajikistan and brought her to Shanghai, where he had been sheltered by a corrupt Chinese general. There, he seduced her, and threatened to kill Daddy and Grand-Uncle Price if she did not give in to him. That's how I came to be.

When they were able to pin him down, my father requested one week of freedom with Oka-chan in Geneva. He was supposed to make an escape at any time, but when they knew that Oka-chan was pregnant with me, he stopped and surrendered himself to the United Nations Security Council. That was why he was now imprisoned in Guantanamo Bay. In return for his surrender, he was spared the death sentence, with three days of freedom remaining.

As it turned out, Tommy was right. Oka-chan was one of two people who could just go to Guantanamo Bay to see him without restrictions or questions. I was the other one. The very moment Oka-chan nodded her head, I packed my bags for Guantanamo Bay, with Daddy and Grand-Uncle Price's blessings. I never knew that there was a helicopter on-call for such trips.

When I stepped into the prison, it looked so freaking empty. But I could see that appearances were not to be judged at all. There were 100 NATO soldiers there, five tanks, and ten Little Birds with guns, which would be mobilized the moment anyone made any sudden moves.

I was led into a beautiful living room, with chandeliers and a roaring fireplace. This could not be a prison. This was a mansion. But there was one thing that caught my mind more than the finery. There were pictures, pictures that even I remember seeing. There were pictures of Oka-chan and I…

I saw a tall man, turning towards me in shock. And then I saw him, for the first time in my young life I saw him, that shadow that had haunted me. The funny thing was, he still looked like how he did in those documentaries and the security camera videos of his operation in Zakhaev International Airport, and that was about 20 years ago.

"Otou-san?" I asked. That was what I resolved to call him, ever since I knew that my real father was out there somewhere. This did not mean in any way that I had forsaken Daddy. I still love him to death, but knowing that my biological father was alive, it was as though a part of me that had always been empty had come back to me.

His eyes, they were heterochromic like mine. Well, one of my eyes was internally heterochromic, green on the inside and blue on the outside, while the other was hazel. Both his eyes, they were the exact same shades of green and blue that I had on my left eye. "Miryu," he murmured, the first time I would ever hear my father's voice.

He held me in his arms for the first time in my life, and I hugged him back. "You look just like your mother," he told me. In a way, I did. We had the same red hair and large, round and slanted eye-shapes. However, Oka-chan always disagreed whenever someone said that to her. She told them that I was a Slavic beauty with Asian charms, and it was only now that I knew what she had meant. I inherited Otou-san's high cheekbones and light skin.

"Funny, she always told me that I looked like you," I replied, causing Otou-san to chuckle. He told me that Oka-chan would never stop trying to contradict him, be it in the battlefield, or over how I looked. It turned out that she would visit him every year, and gave him photographs of me. No wonder he had every single photograph that even I had memories of.

This man, I might know of every single of his crimes, but he is my father. After so long, I finally could see him, and a tear ran down from my eyes.

* * *

It was the first memory I had of Otou-san, and I will never forget it.

* * *

HAN: Sorry for the Japanese family words. Oka-chan- Mother, Otou-san- Father, Jiji (usually not a nice word) - Old Man, Oba-chan- Grandma "-chan" is used for people close to you/or younger -san is for more formal settings.


	26. Oneshot: Fathers

Maj. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141 – UN Headquarters

* * *

It was morning, the sun was already in his eyes, albeit a little too early. God damn it, was only five in the morning! However, it seemed to matter little, because when he turned, he could see the mass of red hair, that highly sensual female form that he had held countless times, and when he leaned closer to her, he could see another, tightly held in her white arms.

This one, was much smaller, although her hair, it remained red, in the exact same quality of her mother's. This young child, a little more than two years in age, was the heart and soul of the woman who had been his own heart and soul. She had been one of the curses given onto Ryuka from the last war, but was also one of the greatest gifts that she had ever received.

* * *

Soap knew in all actuality, no matter how Ryuka had felt about Miryu's father, no matter the guilt-induced state of semi-depression that she had been plunged into after knowing that she was carrying Miryu, Ryuka loved her daughter more than anything, perhaps, in retrospect, a little more than she did him. He had thought her sarcastic wit, her fiery comebacks and brilliant smile, reserved only for those whom she had cared for had been what made her more beautiful than anything in his eyes, but they only paled in comparison when he saw her with her little daughter with heterochromic eyes, her beauty at those moments, had been amplified to indefinite heights, crowned by the happiness and serenity of motherhood. Heterochromia iridium might have had been a common rarity, but for those who had fought in the last war, where all the action had been would know with one glance that young Miryu was the offspring of one of the men who had instigated it – Vladimir Makarov.

Makarov had been the very reason why the Task Force 141 had been created, he had been the very reason why Ryuka had turned from being a hopeful young soldier into a highly prized Black-Ops specialist and sniper, the very catalyst that turned her into the woman she was now. This man had hidden in the shadows that they had sought to uncover for five years, where each of them had shed more than just blood and sweat. Ryuka and her sister had been the first, who had heard whispers of the "Shadow of Zakhaev", and because of that, Makarov had traced them to their origins from the Kyoto Mountains, and he had desecrated their ancestral home so much so that Ryuka had vowed vengeance. From then on she had hunted down every single trace that she could find of him, gaining more than just high recognition in the field, but also the eyes of a shadowed prey upon the predator herself.

When they had set their eyes upon one another in Pyongyang, Makarov had made a decision to claim her for himself. He had deemed her an equal, and would start his own pursuit of her… Beginning from the day he had found her alone, and distraught in Dushanbe…

Ryuka had thought she was the only one who had come into contact with Makarov after his imprisonment in Guantanamo Bay following the UN war tribunal, but there was one instance when Makarov had actually demanded to see him. Knowing that Ryuka would flip if she knew, he granted Makarov's request when Ryuka had gone to Japan to see her parents with Miryu in tow.

* * *

There, the two men, bound by the cruel force known as Fate, talked to each other for the first time, in all meanings of the word "neutrality".

"She loves you," Makarov told him, knowing that he could never seek what Ryuka had with that Scottish man. She had chosen to return to him, even after he had given her another path to take, even if her daughter had been his as well. "I have nothing more to ask of you, MacTavish, only that you treasure both mother and child."

Soap nodded. This man, Makarov also knew that he was a man of few words. Ryuka and himself, they could argue from the fragrant, flowered fields of Heaven down to the last, fiery circle of Hell and back five times, and they would not be at a loss for words. Soap had been a man who had always displayed that actions spoke louder than words. Looking back, this was the man whom he should have sought to kill, since he was the one who had killed Zakhaev, and not Price, but now, it mattered little.

"I'll protect them with my life," Soap promised Makarov. There was no need for more words, no need to reinforce what was already known. He had loved and protected Ryuka (whether or not she had needed it), and he would love and protect Miryu as well. "From you, if they need it, as well."

Makarov let out a bitter chuckle. Nothing could ever escape the former Captain of the Task Force 141. He remembered how hard it had been to get his men to kill this particular soldier, not even the most elaborate of plans… "And thus, I have called you here, MacTavish. I am here, not because I fear for my own life, but because I know what she will have to go through in the future. Ryuka had already suffered enough because of me." Miryu, he was talking about Miryu… "Perhaps, when she knows who I am, it would be easier to accept that I was… rehabilitated, for lack of a better word for it."

At those words, Soap knew that Makarov loved his daughter as well. In fact, it was Miryu, not Ryuka that had brought him to his own imprisonment. A lifetime of solitude, save for the three remaining days of his freedom that had been part of the terms of his incarceration. "No harm will come to Miryu, I promise you." It was a rather crude exchange… for stopping in his open pursuit of Ryuka's heart, he would protect Makarov's daughter, and love her as his own…

"Thank you," Makarov said, and Soap turned to leave after giving the Russian a slight nod. There was no need for the two of them to speak any further, except when it was perfectly necessary, and that, would be a long, long time in passing.


End file.
